


Don't Look Down

by EmeraldWaves



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Music, DJ AU, M/M, Music AU, SaruMi - Freeform, Sarumi Fest 2016, Side Mikototsu, Smut later chapters, misaru, rated E for Chapter 9
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-07-23 23:02:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 75,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7483365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldWaves/pseuds/EmeraldWaves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Fushimi Saruhiko is dragged to a club by some of his co-workers, he refuses to dance, earning him the attention of the lively, up-and-coming DJ, Yata Misaki. After a heated argument, the boys go their separate ways, never expecting to meet again. Little do they know their first meeting is only the beginning of their now intertwined lives. *COMPLETED*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Sarumi Fest everyone! This is my final entry for Day 8! The first chapter of my new chapter-ed fic! This DJ AU is something I've been super passionate about and working on for a quite a bit. I do hope people enjoy!!
> 
> To accompany this fic, some chapters will include character playlists, to go with what I envision to be their style of music. So this first one I'd like to include [Misaki's DJ Playlist](https://8tracks.com/emeraldwaves/straight-into-the-fire-misaki-s-dj-playlist) (link goes to 8Tracks). These are songs that reflected how I view Misaki's music in this fic, as well as music that inspired the fic while I wrote. Please enjoy if you choose to listen!

There were three things Fushimi Saruhiko hated with a burning passion—people, dancing, and loud music. So why he had allowed Doumyouji, Akiyama and Hidaka to drag his ass to a club this particular Thursday night was beyond him. ‘Allowed’ was perhaps a loose term, as he remembered them grabbing his arms and shoving him into a cab. Was it okay to sue, or call the cops saying he had been kidnapped? It was probably too late for that since they were already in the club, might as well suck it up and leave in a few hours when they were done. At the very least, he could buy a drink and try to drown out the cacophony of heavy bass beats thundering in his chest.

Fushimi wrinkled his nose. The club was disgusting, to put it lightly. The black lights illuminated all the wrong things in all the wrong places, and not just shirts and teeth. It was hot and sticky, unknown substances were probably trapped in the thick air, and already Fushimi could feel the grime clinging to his skin. An ocean of people moved together, like waves, bodies swaying with the beat, clinging to their superficial, drunken connections. The music blared loudly in his ear—so loud, he couldn’t hear a thing Doumyouji seemed to be saying to him. While his three co-workers looked thrilled to be there, Fushimi sighed. He pushed through the crowd, bumping into people grinding, making out and doing…various other activities he felt should’ve been saved for a bedroom.

He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t run away when they had pulled up outside of the club. Fushimi wondered if his co-workers had drugged him with some sort of complacency drug, or maybe he had just resigned himself to the inevitable the second they had gotten him into the car. Leaning over the bar, he ordered himself a gin and tonic, practically chugging down the burning liquid to erase the unpleasant feeling.

It wasn’t long before he ordered another one, still leaning against the bar. It seemed like a safe place so far. It was farther from the speakers, and while it grew crowded when people came up to the bar to order drinks, it was relatively open compared to the packed dance floor.

There were a few girls who approached him, one even bold enough to put her hand on his shoulder and trail it down his chest, stopping right above his belt. If he hadn’t had a few drinks in him, Fushimi would’ve swatted her hand away immediately, but instead he waited and met her gaze before pinching her hand, removing it from his body, and shooing her away with a flick of his hand. She scoffed, turning around in a huff, insulted that he would’ve led her on even a little before sending her off.

Fushimi scanned the club, looking for the three men he had come with, but he knew he wouldn’t find them. Clicking his tongue, he sipped on his drink, running his tongue along the edge as he stared up at the DJ across the large room instead. Staring at the crowd made Fushimi feel physically ill, and imagining eventually having to mingle among the sweaty bodies made his face scrunch up into the most unpleasant position.

Watching the DJ wasn’t so bad, however, since he was alone on the stage, surrounded by his equipment. A large keyboard and soundboard stood in front of him, and a laptop was attached to the top of the keyboard, where he seemed to be controlling most of the changes in the music. He was thin, wearing only a dark tank top and pair of dark colored shorts. It was impossible to tell the actual color in the black light, but his headphones glowed on his ears, a bright white with a strange purple hue. He wore a dark beanie too, though Fushimi could see lighter colored pieces of his hair sticking out from under the hat.

It was fascinating to watch him actually, his body bounced and swayed with the music, following the waves of the crowd. Half the time, Fushimi noted, his eyes were closed, though he still seemed capable of changing the direction of the music with what the crowd needed, holding out the bass and beat drops while the crowd cheered, begging for more. Occasionally he would change the song to something people knew, the crowd yelling along with the words, and sometimes he would step back, dancing just as lively as some people in the crowd. It seemed exhausting quite frankly, but Fushimi admitted the guy looked happy doing what he was doing, a large smile on his face anytime he stepped out of the sound to dance on the stage with the crowd.

“FUSHIMI-SAN!” His attention was snapped back to his direct line of sight as Doumyouji yelled in his ear.

“Ow! Shit…Doumyouji…idiot,” he growled, leaning away from Doumyouji, though he was certain the exuberant boy hadn’t heard him.

“COME DANCE! DON’T BE A MOPE BY THE BAR!” he yelled again, wrapping his hand around Fushimi’s wrist. He tried to pry his hand away, but Doumyouji yanked him forward, pulling him towards the sweaty bodies. Clicking his tongue, he clung to his half-empty drink, holding the cup to his chest while Doumyouji maneuvered them through the crowd.

He groaned, rolling his eyes as they settled into the spot where Akiyama and Hidaka were waiting for them.

“I FOUND FUSHIMI!” Doumyouji called out, dancing about with the other two. “We missed you,” he smiled, swinging Fushimi’s wrist about with the music.

“I can’t hear you idiot,” he scoffed.

“I know, this club is so fun! The DJ IS great!” Doumyouji yelled back, confirming Fushimi’s hypothesis that it was impossible for them to hear him. Fushimi was far too tired to try and correct Doumyouji, he probably wouldn’t have listened even if he could’ve heard Fushimi.

Not moving, Fushimi’s face stayed deadpan, glancing back up at the DJ. Closer to him now, Fushimi could see how into the music he was. It was as though Fushimi was watching the DJ in slow motion—each sway of his wrist and bounce of his head moved with the thick bass circling the crowd. For a moment his eyes opened, locking with Fushimi’s and briefly, he looked surprised, confused as to why Fushimi stood there, unmoving besides the motion of his cup to his lips. The music was a low hum in his ear as he stared at the DJ looking down on him. Fushimi didn’t care how long the guy looked at him, he wasn’t going to move.

The moment was fleeting, however, as the DJ flicked a switch, dropping a beat the crowd immediately went wild for, he closed his eyes, dancing around the stage. Fushimi wondered silently if the moment had happened at all.

~

Why the hell wasn’t the asshole near the front on the right side dancing?! Yata Misaki had met all different types of people in his time as a club DJ. Guys who danced with girls, girls who danced with guys, girls who only danced in a circle, stragglers who tried to find someone to dance with, people who only bopped lightly to the music—Yata didn’t think of himself as someone who had an ego, not yet, but never had he seen someone so blatantly ignore the beat and his music. The dark-haired, bespectacled male was simply standing there, deadpan, not doing anything. Unmoving, not smiling, nothing. Why the hell was he at a club if he was just going to fucking standing there?

Rolling his shoulders back, Yata smirked. If there was one thing he knew about his music, it was that he had the uncanny ability to get people to smile, and get up and dance. Since this ass was doing neither of those things, Yata decided it was his job to change that. People came to a club to listen to music, unwind, and have a good time—not stand in place and do nothing for hours.

Picking his headphones up off his neck, he placed them over his ears, letting the music trickle directly into his body. It was easier to make choices that way. Normally he left them off in an attempt to connect with the crowd—right now, however, he had a goal in mind. Flicking his gaze back to the still guy, their eyes locked and Yata smiled wide, which may have caused the other male to turn away from him. Had he noticed Yata had seen him? He had to have expected Yata to notice him—it was impossible for him not to stick out like a sore thumb.

This was Yata’s first big night at this club, one of two headliners and everything. Not that there was anything special about this particular club, but he’d worked his ass off to play at a time he’d actually be heard. Anytime slot before 9 wasn’t worth it. Yata wasn’t about to let this one wet blanket ruin his fun.

The crowd had settled into the beat during the last few songs, moving together, feeling the sound Yata had brought to the club that evening. Taking in a sharp breath, he began to turn up the bass, the speakers vibrating with the loud, deep sound. A few cheers were heard from the audience, though Yata could barely hear them as the beat pulsed in his ears. He knew there was some kind of magic that came along with doing a fake out—building up the beat, only to not let the music drop, leaving the crowd yearning for more. Usually it had to be timed perfectly, so perfectly that the club-goers wouldn’t mind that they’d have to hold out for more. The way the crowd built with anticipation and the tension hung in the sticky air, Yata assumed there was no way this guy could resist the urge to dance once the beat finally hit.

He turned the dial on the soundboard, letting the sound pulse in the air, watching as the crowd buzzed and bubbled with anticipation, heads bobbing up and down, fists clenching as they awaited the movement eagerly. Moving his own hand up and down, Yata watched excitedly as the crowd seemed to flow with the motion of his palm.

He turned on the vocal track, slowly raising the beat of the music, the sounds echoing throughout the crowd. Yata brought up the electronic piano, and quickly twisted the bass in, jumping on the stage in time with the music, and he watched as the crowd jumped with him.

Yata pulled his headphones to rest around his neck, letting the song stay high energy as he glanced over towards the boy he’d been attempting to make move. His hazel eyes flicked back and forth over the crowd, scanning the area he had been in before. At first, Yata couldn’t find him, which he took to be a good sign, until he saw him, leaning against a pole, staring down at the drink in his hand. Immediately Yata’s smile turned into a frown. Who the hell was this guy?! Did he really hate his music so much that he couldn’t even move his head? Maybe he was really lazy?

Shaking his head, Yata returned his focus to the soundboard and his laptop. There had to be something, anything, that could make this guy move. He wasn’t sure why it bugged him so much. This was one of the larger crowds he’d played for, and _everyone else_ was moving—it was an incredible experience. Still, he couldn’t stop the nagging tug in the back of his mind as his gaze continuously fell on the guy near the side not dancing. It would’ve been one thing if he had been at the bar, or on the couches, talking, mingling and being casual, but he was literally standing there, like a damn ghost, haunting everything Yata was doing. Every song change, every layer he added to his track, every beat change, his focus would shoot to the dark-haired boy standing in the corner. His set was almost done, and though he knew the crowd’s reaction had mostly been positive, Yata wanted nothing more than to jump off the stage and shake the guy.

Twisting the knob, he set a steady beat as the DJ after him came on stage.

“That was awesome, you really got them moving! They’ll be bringing you back!” the guy said, bumping his fist against Yata’s shoulder.

 “Thanks man, good luck!” he smiled, grabbing his personal soundboard and laptop, off the stage. The night really had been a success, but he couldn’t help but obsess over that one damn idiot.

~

Fushimi was just about done. Well, he had already been done the second he’d been shoved in the cab, but now he wanted to leave more than anything else he had ever wanted in his life. Somehow, in the short amount of time it had taken him to get a drink and be dragged back to the dance floor, _more_ people had shown up. No amount of alcohol was going to make this better for Fushimi. His head was throbbing, and with each song change it seemed as though the DJ’s song choices were getting louder and more hyperactive.

There were a few times when the beat had dropped particularly hard, making the speakers vibrate and throb their thick bass sound throughout the club, and Fushimi had given the DJ a nice, pointed glare. He knew it wouldn’t do anything in particular, but it was nice to have some sort of personal consolation. There had been a few times, however, when they had locked eyes, and though Fushimi wasn’t sure if the DJ was looking at him—it was hard to tell—it did feel as though they had exchanged a few silent conversations. At first, Fushimi noted that the DJ seemed surprised every time he looked at him, but the more times they locked eyes, he seemed more irked. Maybe he was annoyed that he wasn’t dancing. Fushimi smirked, nothing in the world was going to get him to dance in this place. Nothing was going to get him to dance ever.

At the very least, this little eye game, real or not, was keeping him vaguely entertained, so when the next DJ took to the stage, he grew immediately bored again. Even watching Akiyama, Hidaka, and Doumyouji dance and make fools of themselves was repetitive—he could only watch them wiggle around awkwardly for so long.

Grabbing Doumyouji’s arm, Fushimi leaned close to his ear. “Are we done here?” he asked. Doumyouji looked momentarily disappointed, but looked to the other two, who both shrugged.

“Guess so!” he yelled over the loud music.

“Good,” Fushimi said, clicking his tongue as he began to head out to the front of the club. Never again would he let Doumyouji drag his ass anywhere. Never again would he step foot inside a damn club like this. He silently wondered how many showers he would have to take before the grime came off his skin, even under his nails felt dirty.

Stepping outside, Fushimi sucked air in through his nose, happy he could finally breathe decently clean air again. His ears hummed, everything sounding foggy and clogged.

“Let’s get out of here,” he growled, watching Doumyouji hail a taxi.

“Hey!” All four boys turned to look towards the muffled voice, the DJ from earlier standing almost directly in front of them. Fushimi turned back around, assuming the guy wasn’t talking to them, since he’d never met the guy before. “Dark hair! Glasses!” he barked, causing Fushimi to raise his eyebrows and turn around, staring at the red-haired male. He was surprisingly short, the stage had really given him the illusion of being far taller.

“I think he’s talking to you,” Hidaka said, nudging Fushimi slightly.

“Eh?” Fushimi asked, gesturing to himself, but he didn’t have to as the angry guy stormed over to him.

“Don’t ‘eh’ me! What the hell is your problem?!” he yelled, hazel eyes narrow as his nostrils flared with anger.

“ _My_ problem? Who the hell _are_ you?”

“Who am I? I’m Yata Misaki, the DJ whose set you just watched!” he yelled. Fushimi stared at the angry boy, perplexed.

“Okay? And why do I care?”

Yata blinked, looking as though he’d been verbally slapped. He shook his head and glared once again. “Fine. You may not care, but I do! Why the hell weren’t you dancing…at all!? Not even bobbing your fucking head!”

Placing his hands on his hips, Fushimi clicked his tongue. “Are you yelling at me because I wasn’t dancing to your music?”

“Yes!” Yata answered immediately.

“What if I didn't like it? Everyone has opinions.”

“Eh? Fushimi-san!” Doumyouji yelled. “Don’t upset the DJ, he just played great music for us!”

But Fushimi ignored his co-worker, rolling his eyes. “You can’t expect every person you DJ for to like your music,” he snorted.

Stepping back, the guy looked disappointed. “Fine, whatever. So you didn’t like my music, still, not moving at all is just fuckin’ sad!” Yata snapped.

“I’m sad because _your_ music didn’t make me dance?” Fushimi sneered. He really didn’t care about this guy or his music, but something about the way Yata had so indignantly called him out pissed him off.

“You don’t have to be an ass about it!” Yata snapped.

“The entire crowd was dancing for you, are you so insecure about your music that you need the opinion of one person?” Fushimi scoffed.

“Fushimi…” Akiyama muttered from behind him. “That’s a little harsh…you don’t even know this guy…”

“All the more reason to be honest,” Fushimi replied. “Besides, he really shouldn’t care about one person. If you really want to be an artist, learn to accept that some people might not like what you create.”

 Yata’s hands were trembling as Fushimi spoke. “Whatever, it’s just hard to believe you wouldn’t dance at all! And I was going to ask why, but I guess you’re just an ass.”

“Well I wasn’t dancing, so really it shouldn’t be hard to believe at all,” he grinned. “Anyway, we’re done here,” he said, glancing towards the cab which had finally shown up. “I’ve been waiting to leave since I got here. Stop caring about what one person thinks, Yata Misaki.” Stepping away from the angry DJ, he walked to the cab, thrilled to go home for the evening.

“You know, you could’ve just told him you don’t really enjoy…dancing,” Akiyama said, once the four boys were in the cab.

Clicking his tongue, he stared out the window. “I can’t believe he actually noticed I wasn’t dancing,” Fushimi muttered.

“Well, when you’re the only one not moving, it’s kinda obvious-” Doumyouji said, but immediately stopped when Fushimi glared at him.

“Tsk. Let’s just go, I’m exhausted,” he sighed, leaning his head against the cab window, the angry image of Yata Misaki’s face appearing in his mind as he wondered why the idiot had cared so much.

~

Yata clenched his fists as the guy, Fushimi, got into the cab. Kicking his foot angrily against the ground, he growled and turned back towards the club. The nerve of that guy! Who the hell did he think he was? Yata didn’t care if Fushimi didn’t like his music, it wasn’t about that—he only wanted to know why. Was that so selfish? Apparently, from the way the asshole had spoken.

He pushed back through the crowd, ignoring a few people who patted his back, complimenting him for a job well done. A girl attempted to convince Yata to dance with her, but he quickly shook his head and dashed towards the small backroom where the DJs hung out before they took to the stage.

“Great job, Yata-kun.” Two girls he didn’t recognize smiled, and waved at him cutely. Yata could only blush in response and stammer out an awkward ‘thank you’, side-stepping away from them to sit with Kamamoto.

“Yata-san!!!” The chubby man called out, draping an arm around his neck. “That was by far your best show yet!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, dipping out of the hold Kamamoto had on his neck. Flopping on the couch, Yata leaned his head back, groaning loudly.

 “Woah, woah!” Kamamoto said, leaning in towards him. “What the hell happened to you? You looked awesome out there, and everyone _loved_ you!”

“Not everyone,” he growled, tugging the beanie off his head. He waved it in front of his face, fanning himself.

“What are you talking about?” Kamamoto asked, taking a seat next to his friend.

“This one asshole. By the right pole, he just…stood there the whole damn time,” Yata said gritting his teeth.

Raising an eyebrow, Kamamoto sat back with sigh, folding his arms together. “Yeah but, Yata…he was only one guy! The club loved you, they’re talking about bringing you back as another headliner…”

“How can you not dance _at all_?!” he yelled, standing up to pace about in front of the couch.

“Yata-”

“Fine! You don’t like my music, but you don’t have to silently protest me!”

“Uh, Yata-”

“And then when I confronted him, he wouldn’t even tell me why and tried to get me to stop caring what one person thought. If someone isn’t moving at all to your music, isn’t it normal to want to know why?!”

“Woah, you confronted him?!” Kamamoto gasped, staring at the moving form of his friend. “Is that where you went immediately after the show?”

“Well duh!” Yata stopped, glaring at Kamamoto. “What else was I supposed to do? I wasn’t going to let that asshole walk on out of here without giving me an explanation,” Yata snapped, groaning again when he realized in the end he hadn’t really gotten much of an explanation.

“What did he say?” Kamamoto asked, leaning forward.

“Nothing! He said nothing. Well…he called me insecure and shit, but mostly he said nothing,” Yata grumbled, and pulled the beanie back over his head.

“Look, Yata. It was an amazing show tonight. The club loved you, the crowd loved you. You’ve been waiting for this! Don’t let some…nobody ruin it for you! There are tons of after parties and shit we can go to, okay?”

 Yata knew Kamamoto was right. He _had_ been waiting for this for so long, and just because one guy didn’t dance, didn’t mean he had failed. Still, it felt like he had. His favorite part of being a DJ was getting the whole crowd to be completely in sync with the music, dancing together, moving together—a connection. And when he saw Fushimi, he couldn’t take his eyes off of that unmoving asshole. Fushimi was the only one who couldn’t seem to get into the flow of the crowd and beat, and Yata hated him.

It didn’t help either that Fushimi wasn’t wrong. Some people weren’t going to like what he did, some people weren’t going to want to dance. Yata would keep making music, and he couldn’t focus on one person’s opinion. But tonight was supposed to be his awesome headliner debut, and as far as Yata was concerned, Fushimi had ruined it.

“I tried everything,” Yata sighed. “Nothing I did got him to dance.” 

  “C’mon Yata!” Kamamoto stood up and bumped his fist against Yata’s shoulder. “Look on the bright side, maybe the challenge helped. I mean you were really on tonight!” he smiled.

Frowning, Yata rolled his eyes. “Don’t give him credit for my awesomeness!”

“Alright, alright!” Kamamoto said and nudged him. “Just because a few people don’t like your music, doesn’t mean anything okay? People have opinions.”

“What…you friends with him or something? He said the same thing!” Yata snapped.

“No! I’m not,” Kamamoto sighed and shook his head. “You’re not gonna ever see the guy, so just let it go! Your next show will be kick ass and awesome, even better than tonight…everyone will dance, you’ll see!”

“Let’s go,” Yata said, grabbing his bag with his laptop. “I’m done for the night anyway.”

“Do you want to head to the after party? Chitose said you could spin again.”

Rubbing the back of his neck, Yata glanced at the watch on his wrist, shaking his head. “I’m gonna head out, get some rest, and work on some new stuff tomorrow,” he said. He felt completely off his game now. Fushimi had thrown him off far more than he cared to admit. The guy was a pretentious asshole, true, and Yata knew he shouldn’t care, but goddamn it, he couldn't stop picturing the way Fushimi stood in the corner, unmoving, clutching his drink with his stupid, unsmiling, decently attractive face.

“Alright, catch ya’ tomorrow then,” Kamamoto said, grabbing his beer as he left Yata packing up his things in the backroom. Really Yata was disappointed about the whole damn situation, and he hoped Kamamoto was right. If he could help it, Yata never wanted to see Fushimi again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for reading!! I'm really excited about this AU and have a large chunk written. I'm hoping to update weekly! So thank you in advance if you choose to stick with this fic ^^. Thank you to Sara for letting me freak out about this to you!! And thank you to Chrome and Gine who previewed this and Adriana who beta-ed. Once again, happy Sarumi Fest! I'm happy I got to participate so much this year, hope it was great for everyone!


	2. Chapter 2

Running his hand down his face, Yata groaned, yanked his beanie off, and tossed it to the floor. He’d been staring at the screen in front of him for what seemed to be hours, and he hated this. He should’ve been inspired after the amazing night at the club, but no, damn Fushimi had to stand in the corner and ruin everything.

“This is shit, absolute shit,” he said, swiveling the chair around in a circle and slamming his finger on the spacebar to stop the track playing on his laptop. He’d been working on the new track in his small home studio for a few hours now, and currently nothing was sticking. Kamamoto had come over to attempt to help him, but so far, the guy had done absolutely nothing to help Yata through the musical block.

“It’s really not, Yata-san!” Kamamoto urged, noticing the way Yata’s brow was furrowed, his eyebrow twitching.

“It is! Do you really think Mikoto would make something like this? Or Nagare Hisui!? Yeah, right. They would never.” Yata slammed his laptop shut, not wanting to look at the WAV lines glaring at him across the screen.

“Well you have a different style from them anyway,” Kamamoto mused.

“It doesn’t matter, it’s still not something they would listen to. It’s not something anyone would listen to!” Yata yelled.

“Are you still mad about that guy?” Kamamoto mumbled cautiously. Yata was like a firecracker, ready to explode at any moment, and the last thing Kamamoto wanted to do was set him off. Yata could tell.

“No…” Yata lied, glancing towards the laptop which was now shut on the table. Behind him, he could hear Kamamoto fold his arms, the material of his hoodie rustling. Obviously, he wasn’t buying Yata’s lie. “Fine, yes. I’m still pissed about that guy.”

“Yata-san!” Kamamoto groaned, flopping back onto the couch. “You’re obsessing about this, y’know? Chitose already has another gig lined up for you, and the manager from last night was raving about you—said somethin’ about wanting to hire you back! That Fushimi guy was probably in a pissy mood or some shit, don’t let it get you down.”

Yata glanced down and rubbed the cord of his headphones between his thumb and pointer finger, the wire twirling against his chest. He trilled his lips, huffing out a large breath of air. “Look, you don’t get it Kamamoto,” he growled, hitting his hand against the chair. “I had the whole crowd moving and it was amazing.” He tapped his forehead, puffing out his cheeks. “Okay, okay, you know when you look out over the crowd and everyone is moving, and the beat is playing and it’s like…it’s like you’ve created their heartbeats?” he explained.

“That was surprisingly artsy, Yata-san,” Kamamoto chuckled.

Throwing his hands up, Yata plopped down in the chair, rolling up to the desk. “Forget it! Just fuckin’ forget it! It was obnoxious! Everything was so in-sync except for that one asshole just _standing_ there!” His fists were clenched against the desk. Every time his mind flashed back to the evening prior, all he could picture was Fushimi’s smug face, a static statue in a room full of living, breathing beings.

“You’re never going to see him again, Yata-san.”

“And what if he shows up to every show I do from now on just to torture me!” he growled.

“And you decided this was going to happen after talking to the guy one time?” Kamamoto raised an eyebrow at Yata, folding his arms skeptically.

“I don’t know, he sure seemed like that type of asshole,” Yata grunted, nodding his head up and down decidedly.

“Uh, I dunno,” Kamamoto scratched his head. “It sounds more like he’s the type to not care about this kind of shit at all. I’m pretty sure you’re never gonna see him again,” Kamamoto nodded decisively. “It sounded like he hated you actually, I doubt he’d waste his time coming back.”

“Gee, Thanks Kamamoto,” Yata frowned.

“What? I thought you didn’t want him around! Make up your mind, Yata-san!” he teased.

“I fucking don’t!” Puffing out his cheeks, Yata wanted to believe Kamamoto, it would certainly make things easier. Letting out a sigh, he unclenched his fists and re-opened his laptop. “You’re right. I know you’re right.” But a tiny voice tugged at the back of his mind, wondering if maybe Fushimi would follow him, standing in the crowd like an annoying specter watching every move Yata made. He was being ridiculous—the whole thought train was absolutely ludicrous. From what Yata had observed, those other guys had dragged Fushimi to the club, and Kamamoto was right, Fushimi’d hated it. There was no way he’d be anywhere Yata was again.

“I know I’m right,” Kamamoto smiled, looking proud that Yata had finally caved, for once, and agreed with him.

“Don’t flatter yourself, it’s not gonna happen again!” Yata said, turning over his shoulder to glare at Kamamoto pointedly. He pulled up the track again, and rubbed his hands together. “Okay. This time I’m going to figure it out. I think something is wrong with the bass loop,” he muttered, playing through the track again.

The bass came in loud, pounding against the speakers in the small studio room, Yata bopped his head up and down slightly, pursing his lips as he realized he didn’t like the offbeat symbol clap he had added in earlier that morning. Suddenly the track skipped, repeating the same two seconds over and over rapidly, until the audio went silent.

“Well that was unique…” Kamamoto said finally, breaking the awkward silence.

“Shit!” Yata cursed, pressing the spacebar on the laptop, attempting to start the track up again. However, once the player began to move, no sound came out. He tried opening other programs, music files…movies files, everything was working fine except for the audio. “Shit…no! No, no! If this piece of junk is broken…” he growled, and Kamamoto instinctively backed up.

He tried turning the laptop on and then off again, but still no sound seemed to be coming from the speakers. Even when external speakers were plugged in, there was nothing. “Y-Yata-san?” Kamamoto spoke tentatively.

“Dammit…” he growled. “I think my laptop just broke. It’s not playing anything.”

“At all?” Kamamoto asked, moving to stand next to Yata. “Try plugging your headphones in!” he suggested. Doing as Kamamoto said, Yata plugged the headphones around his neck into his laptop, only to find they weren’t playing sound either. Groaning, he yanked them off from around his neck.

“What the hell happened?!” he snapped, to no one in particular.

“I-I mean, you’ve had it for a long time, Yata-san!” Kamamoto stammered, knowing it was difficult to cheer Yata up once he reached a certain…‘point of no return’ with his anger. “And you’ve been spinning at a lot of clubs lately! Maybe it’s just…the wear and tear,” he added quickly. “You’ve come so far!”

It was true—Yata really had come far. He’d only been producing his own music for a few years, and already he had continuous gigs, as well as a small following. He was currently working on a new song, one he hoped would be an amazing track to catch the ear of big time producers or talent agencies. The fall festival was coming up, and if he qualified in the preliminary competition, he would be given a time slot to play his stuff. If Yata could do that, he knew he could make it big—the next Suoh Mikoto, or Nagare Hisui. And he was on the brink of it, he could feel it in his bones. When he began to put a track together, his heart raced with anticipation, his blood rushing through his veins as he worked where the pace would begin to pick up, or the drop would shift…though he could tell it wasn’t quite correct. It was missing something, he just hadn’t figured out what that something was yet. But before all that, he’d have to fix his damn laptop, or there would be _no_ new songs.

Sighing heavily, Yata slouched his shoulders. He shut the laptop, picking it up off the desk. “I don’t have time for this. I gotta get this fixed right away.” He tucked it into his bag, and grabbed his keys.

“You’re going right now?!” Kamamoto asked, watching as Yata was already halfway out the door.

“Yeah! I gotta work on the new song as soon as possible!” he said hurriedly. “Look, I’ll be right back, just wait here.” He slammed the door, leaving Kamamoto standing in the middle of the room.

~

“I heard you had quite the fulfilling night with Doumyouji-kun and the others, Fushimi-kun!” Munakata hummed, looking disgustingly proud. His eyes were closed, though his smile was as wide as his damn jaw. Could Fushimi punch him? He wanted to, but he’d probably get fired. Actually, he’d definitely get fired. Instead, he kept his facial expression flat, and stared back at his odd boss.

“Fulfilling,” he repeated flatly. And who had told Munakata exactly? Was Doumyouji really dumb enough to tell their boss of their intoxicated shenanigans? Or perhaps Munakata had figured it out in his weird, creepy, ‘knows-too-much-about-his-employees’ way.

“So you _did_ have a good time,” he beamed, leaning in closer.

Backing his chair up, Fushimi clicked his tongue. “No.”

“Oya? So you didn’t have a good time?” Munakata’s smile immediately shifted to a frown as he leaned against Fushimi’s desk.

“It was crowded and sweaty,” he muttered, offering no further information—Munakata could figure it out from there.

“Mmm. Hidaka-kun said you had an enjoyable time speaking to the DJ,” Munakata continued. Fushimi would never understand why the man felt an incessant need to be involved in their lives. He was their boss, not their best friend. Plus, Fushimi was now questioning what Hidaka considered to be…enjoyable conversation.

Fushimi raised an eyebrow. “The guy was an idiot,” he replied flatly.

“Ah, I see,” Munakata replied. “Well I suppose Hidaka-kun was mistaken.” He smiled again—that creepy smile which made it seem as though Munakata was looking into your soul and learning all your darkest secrets, or rather, that he already knew them all and was waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

However, Fushimi was…grateful to Munakata. As annoying as the man was, he was one of the main reasons Fushimi had been able to move out of the hell hole that was his childhood home all those years ago. He had met Munakata on the subway, and, as always, Munakata couldn’t mind his own business and had spied on the app Fushimi had been fiddling with at the time. Munakata had inquired about the app, and Fushimi had reluctantly told him about it, after which, Munakata asked him if he wanted a job and proceeded to hire Fushimi for a personal programming project. Of course, in the end, the project had been a test, but it had led to Fushimi being hired as an elite technician at Munakata’s electronic company.

It wasn’t the most glamorous job, but Munakata treated his employees very well, and Fushimi made enough to leave his home and live on his own, which was all that mattered to him. Years later though, he still hadn’t attempted to find another job. He liked programming, and even though he often had to assist with repairs, he was speedy and talented—Munakata’s best employee.

“Sir,” Fushimi began, “with all due respect, you should’ve known Hidaka was mistaken the moment he said ‘enjoyable’.” Once again, Fushimi clicked his tongue. Munakata was an intelligent man, and he'd known Fushimi for long enough to know how he felt about these kinds of things. Fushimi knew he probably had only wanted to talk to him about this as an excuse to skip out on his paperwork.

“Ah. You are correct,” Munakata mused. “But a man can dream, Fushimi-kun.”

“Why the hell are you dreaming about my social life?” Fushimi muttered, mostly under his breath.

Pushing himself off of the desk, Munakata let out a long dramatic sigh. “I guess I should let you get back to work.”

 “ _You_ should get back to work. Awashima-san isn’t going to be happy if she has to pick up your slack again.”

“She won’t even notice I was gone,” he chuckled as he casually began to head back towards his office. Rolling his eyes, Fushimi was certain that Awashima would notice Munakata being gone. The woman was always having to keep tabs on their idiot boss.

Rubbing his forehead, Fushimi returned his gaze back to his screen, hoping to focus now that the distraction was gone. The silence didn’t last for long though, as Doumyouji and Hidaka approached Fushimi’s desk, both looking vaguely distressed.

“Ahh, Fushimi-san,” Doumyouji said hurriedly. “I’m really really really sorry,” he spoke fast, “but the boss overheard us talking about last night, and I think he maybe knows you were there and he maybe will come over to…inquire further.” The longer Doumyouji spoke, the higher pitched his voice grew, his shoulders drawing up to his ears, his face looking as though he were preparing for Fushimi to hit him.

“Too late,” Fushimi said, keeping his eyes locked on his screen.

“Too…late?” Hidaka asked.

“He already came over here,” Fushimi sighed, shrugging his shoulders. Doumyouji groaned loudly.

“I’m sorry! We tried to stop him…”

Waving a hand at both of them, Fushimi clicked his tongue. “He would’ve found out somehow and come over here anyway.”

“That does sound like the boss,” Hidaka chuckled.

“Great, now can you both please leave me alone. I’m already behind and—”

“Fushimi-san!” Goto’s voice sounded over the speaker on his desk phone. “Can you come downstairs to the front? I’ve been trying to fix this guy’s audio drive and I can’t seem to figure out what’s wrong with it.” It seemed like getting actual work done today was going to be impossible.

Leaning forward, he pressed the intercom button. “I’ll be down.” Sighing, he stood up, clicking his tongue yet again. “So many damn distractions today.”

He made his way down the hall to the stairs. Scepter 4 had two levels—the first was the main entrance and showroom where customers could purchase products or get repairs done on their electronics. The upstairs was where the technicians and programmers did their work. Fushimi rarely worked repairs and retail downstairs, but occasionally they would call him down when they were stumped about a problem—he was the best after all.

Pushing through the door, he turned toward Goto and opened his eyes wide, not expecting to see Yata Misaki, the DJ from last night, standing angrily with his open laptop.

~

Yata didn’t want to believe it could be him. After the technician had called the guy’s name over the intercom, Yata had a hard time believing it _wouldn’t_ be him. So when Fushimi stepped through the door which led to the back, Yata wasn’t the least bit surprised. But it didn’t mean he wasn’t angry as all hell. Pointing immediately, he glared at the bespectacled male in front of him. “You!” he yelled loudly.

“Ah, and here I thought you were being loud because the club was so noisy last night. But it seems you’re just that loud. Maybe you’re going deaf from listening to too much noise.”

“And I see you’re still an asshole, even when sober!” So much for Yata’s theory that Fushimi was just an asshole when he was drunk.

“You two…uh…know each other?” The other technician spoke up, interrupting their argument.

“We’ve met,” Fushimi said vaguely and leaned over the table, looking at the screen. “So what did you do? Destroy it with your cacophony of bass?” he smirked.

“First of all, it’s not a…a…caco..whatever of bass. It’s _music_. And…uh-uh, no way. You’re not touching this!” Yata said, pulling his laptop back towards him. He hated this guy. This was the guy who had ruined what was arguably one of his better nights at the new club. This was the guy who was making Yata question his talent and music choice. And worst of all, Yata hated how good he looked, smirking like that.

“Oh? I thought you needed help with something.”  
   
“I do! But not from _you_ ,” Yata snarled.

“Your loss.”

“Ah, Fushimi-san is our best technician,” the other male explained. “If anyone can fix it…he can. And he’s not going to do anything…that’s against company policy. You are a paying customer after all.”

Yata watched Fushimi fold his arms and click his tongue, looking away from both of them, clearly annoyed that yes, he would have to follow the rules. Yata didn’t want Fushimi to touch his laptop, but at the same time, he really needed to get it sorted. He couldn’t sit around waiting for some technicians to fumble about, he had a song to create.

“Fine!” he snorted, huffing air loudly out his nose. “You can fix it. If you’re really the best.”

“Right,” Fushimi replied. “What did you do to it?”

Taking a deep breath, Yata rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s the audio. Whenever I try and do anything with sound, no sound happens. I even tried plugging headphones or external speakers in. Neither made a difference,” he sighed.

Pulling the laptop close to him, Fushimi leaned over on his elbows, getting face level with the screen. “You might have to replace the audio drive, but I’ll look into it,” he muttered.

“Are you some kind of robot? Genius technician, hates all music,” Yata sneered, feeling the need to toss the quip out there. He never liked being the one to finish last.

Fushimi raised an eyebrow. “Do you really want to say that to the guy who has the fate of your laptop in his hands?”

Groaning, Yata leaned forward too, staring at the back of his laptop. “Fine. But seriously why the hell are you so negative about my stuff?”

Flipping the laptop over, Fushimi was silent as he fiddled with the screws on the backside. “Is that all you care about?”

“No!” Yata retorted quickly. “But it’s important to me!” Fushimi’s blue eyes peered over the edge of his dark-rimmed frames.

“Look,” he grunted. “Your music is fine. I just hate people, especially crowds. It didn’t help that your music is loud either.”

“So…what you’re saying is…you did like it, you just didn’t like the club?!” Yata said, smiling widely.

“You really do have a one track mind. I stand by what I said last night. You don’t need everyone to love you, Yata Misaki.”

“Yata,” he growled.

“Why did you say your own name?” Fushimi asked, still staring at him.

“It’s just Yata, stop saying my full name.” Yata shoved his hands into his pockets, looking annoyed. “I don’t like my first name,” he muttered, his lips curling into a soft pout.

“Oh? Is that so, Mi-sa-ki?” Fushimi sneered, holding out every syllable of his name in an obnoxious singsong tone. He flipped the laptop back over, turning it back on. 

“Fuck. I never should’ve said anything. Look can you fix my computer or not?” Instead of answering, Fushimi simply glanced back down at the screen and began clacking away at the keyboard.

Wiggling his fingers in his pockets, Yata rocked back and forth on his hands, staring at the other while he worked. Minus the fact the guy couldn’t seem to crack a smile…ever, he was actually pretty good looking, and Yata hated himself for thinking that. Fushimi’s face was very attractive, his blue eyes bright against the computer screen, and the more Yata stared at him, the more he could feel his cheeks begin to blush.

After a few more moments of silence, Yata cleared his throat. “So, what _do_ you like to listen to?”

“You mean when I’m not forced to hear idiots yapping around my ear?” Fushimi scoffed.

“I mean music, asshole. What kind of music do you listen to?”

Once again, Fushimi didn’t move his gaze from the screen. “I don't know. I don’t listen to music much.”

“You _don’t_?!” Yata yelled, incredulous. His hazel eyes were wide as he leaned closer to Fushimi. “Are you…soulless?!” he gasped, and from the look Fushimi gave him, Yata was starting to think he wasn’t that far off.

“…Anyway,” Fushimi said, finally looking up to meet Yata’s eyes. “We can fix it, but it’s going to take about a week.”

“A week! What?! Can’t you help a guy out? We’re friends, yeah?” Yata yelled. He couldn’t wait a whole week to get his laptop back! Not when he was on the brink of something. Not when he was so close to breaking through with something new and amazing!

“I have no idea what gave you the impression we were friends.” Fushimi spat the word friends, as though it were a needle digging into his tongue. “But fine…if you pay an expedite fee, I can maybe have it done in three days.”

“I’ll do it,” Yata said, practically interrupting Fushimi. Three days wasn’t great, but it was a hell of a lot better than a damn week.

“You’re not going to ask how much it is? Alright then.” Fushimi shrugged and closed Yata’s laptop, writing up a receipt. “You don’t have to pay until we bring it back to you. We’ll call you when it’s finished. Write your number here,” he said, pushing a small slip of paper towards Yata.

 “Thanks,” he muttered, scribbling his cell number on the sheet.

 “Great, we’ll call you,” Fushimi said, grabbing the computer off the desk as he turned to his co-worker.

 Yata sighed, and made his way out of the shop. He shouldn’t have expected the fix to be quick, but at the very least he could be back on track after three days or so, as long as that Fushimi asshole didn’t fuck up his computer more.

~

“Wow, three days! That’s impressive, Fushimi-san!” Goto smirked, nudging his shoulder.

Wrinkling his nose, Fushimi clicked his tongue. “It’s nothing. He’s the idiot willing to pay for it. It won’t take long to fiddle with an audio drive. I’m not surprised the idiot blew it out with the type of music he plays,” he grumbled.

“How do you know this guy exactly?” Goto asked.

“I don’t. It’s not important,” he said, brushing past Goto to head back to the office upstairs. He had to get to work on the computer as soon as possible if he actually wanted to meet the three day timeline he had promised. Though he had a strange feeling that Goto wasn’t going to be the only one who was inquiring about this asshole.

What shitty luck he had—after that night Fushimi had never expected to see Yata Misaki again. But of course, the idiot had to pick _this_ damn place to get his piece of junk laptop repaired. And really, it would be no problem to have the thing fixed in the next few days, though it would’ve been nice to avoid working on it for as long as possible—the week would’ve given him a nice cushion.

Plus, Fushimi once again felt annoyed Yata had to bring his music into it. Was that all the asshole thought about? So what? Fushimi didn’t listen to a lot of music. He much preferred to sit in silence. Sometimes when he was younger he had listened to some music…punk rock, but he had quickly outgrown it. He had a difficult time concentrating on his work when noise or music was on in the background, attempting to distract him. The real baffling thing was Yata’s obsession with Fushimi’s opinion. Why did the idiot feel the need to gain approval from him? Maybe he was one of the first people to outwardly dislike Yata’s music? Still, it didn’t make a great deal of sense to him. For a moment he thought perhaps he should clarify with Yata that he wasn’t much of a music listener, but he did find it rather entertaining to watch Yata flounder about to convince him to like his music.

“Fushimi-san!” Doumyouji called out, leaning over the wall of Fushimi’s cubicle desk with Hidaka. “Is it true the DJ from last night was just here?!”

Rolling his eyes, Fushimi glanced up at his eager co-workers. “Yes. I’m fixing his laptop, and I have to start now. Please leave,” he grumbled.

“Ooooo! What did he say?! Was he shocked to see you?! Were you shocked to see _him_?!” Doumyouji gasped, leaning further over the desk.

Hidaka shook his head and sighed, “Doumyouji-kun! It’s not a television drama,” he snorted.

“It was shocking. Everyone was shocked. Now, don’t you have work to do, just like I do?” Fushimi replied, completely deadpan.

“Fine! We’ll just go ask Goto-san then,” Doumyouji smirked, as though he had truly just beat the system completely. Fushimi wasn’t about to argue, with Doumyouji and Hidaka out of his hair, he could actually start on this job. Maybe if he was lucky, he could finish it in two days. That would certainly be _shocking_ for the idiot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2!! Thanks to Adriana for reading this like XDD A month ago LOL. I hope everyone continues to enjoy the direction this goes in! ^^ thank you for reading.


	3. Chapter 3

Tapping his fingers on the desk in rhythm, Yata waited in the main lobby for Fushimi to return with his laptop. Shockingly, it had only taken him two days to fix it. There was a small part of Yata that had expected Fushimi to come back and make up some sort of excuse to either get him to pay more money, or make him wait longer. But it seemed, in the end, Fushimi wasn’t _that_ much of an asshole. He probably wanted to brag about being good at his job, getting it done a day early and whatnot.

“I see I’ve impressed you,” Fushimi smirked, placing Yata’s computer down gently in front of him. Yata was more impressed he had known exactly what Fushimi would say—of course the jerk wanted to brag about his amazing ability to fix a laptop in two days.

“What the hell makes you say that?!” he snapped, lifting the top open. “Maybe I’ll be more impressed when it actually plays something and I know for a _fact_ that it works.”

“What?” Fushimi grinned. “You don’t trust me?”

“Of course not,” Yata scoffed loudly. “I guess I trust you to do your job, since I’m paying you and whatever. But I don’t trust you. I don’t trust anyone who doesn’t listen to music.” He typed in his password, pulling up the main screen.

“Back to the music thing again…” Fushimi muttered, watching as Yata pulled up his music player, pushing the spacebar to start the song. Immediately the music began to echo through the back of the store, the loud electronic beats bouncing through the air.

“Alright, it works!” he said.

“Perfect,” Fushimi said, leaning forward to pause the song.

“Hm, thank you. I hate to admit it, but…” he paused, his cheeks flushing a bit as his brow furrowed, as though offering Fushimi a compliment was going to cause him to explode. “You actually helped me a lot,” he muttered, rubbing his arm.

“You paid me. I didn’t do you any favors,” he replied flatly.

“Whatever. You still got it done a day early,” Yata said, folding his arms. He shut the laptop and pushed it into his case, zipping it up so he could tuck it into his backpack.

“Right,” Fushimi said, and pulled out a receipt to hand to Yata. “Here. This includes the total cost of repairs. We take cash, credit, or checks, and you have to pay before you leave the store with the device.”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Yata said, wincing slightly when he looked at the final cost. He knew it would be higher than he had expected, since he had asked to rush the process along, but still it didn’t stop him from shuddering at the price. At least his laptop worked now—it was fixed and he was ready to start working on his song again.

He pulled out a check and scribbled the amount down before handing it over to Fushimi. “Uh, what time are you done here? Do you drink coffee or anything? I kind of wanna get you something, you know as a tip for getting it done early,” Yata blushed.

“Are you asking me on a date?” Fushimi snorted. “What makes you think I’d go out with you?”

 Yata’s face lit up brighter than his hair. “W-What the hell!? I’m not asking you out! I just want to thank you for fixing my shit so fast!” he yelled, clenching his fists angrily. People in the store turned to look at him, and Yata covered his eyes, leaning against the desk. “It was just a request. As friends. Friendly friends getting coffee, me thanking you for saving my laptop.”

“We’ve never been friendly,” Fushimi replied.

“I know because you’re an asshole!” Yata yelled again. “Let me buy you a coffee, and I can try and figure out why your brain doesn’t like the greatest form of expression on the planet!” Yata exclaimed.

“So that’s what this is. You want to talk about why I don’t like music. You don’t care about tipping me. If you really wanted to tip me you could give me a few dollars and move on, but you want me to hang out with you so you can bombard me with obnoxious songs and questions, begging for my opinion,” Fushimi rolled his eyes. Yata couldn’t believe Fushimi had him figured out so quickly. It was true. Yata wanted to figure out why this person hated music so much—if he really wanted to tip him he could’ve given him money, just as Fushimi said.

“Hah?! I swear it wasn’t meant to be a trick…but yeah. I don’t get why you don’t like music, and as a musician I wanna know why, sue me,” he grunted and folded his arms indignantly.

“You call yourself a musician?” Fushimi asked, raising an eyebrow. “You’re an over-glorified DJ,” he snarked.

Yata’s eyes widened and he lunged forward, grabbing at Fushimi’s shirt. “You ass! Of course I’m a musician, it’s difficult to make this kind of music! Not everyone can do it, and you gotta have a certain ear!” he spat. Who the hell did this guy think he was? You had to be a musician to be a DJ. He was creating music, making his own sound. That took talent and skill, if this ass thought anyone could be a DJ, he was in for a shock. “I’d like to see you try,” Yata hissed.

Wrapping his fingers around Yata’s wrist, Fushimi tugged him off of his shirt. “Fine, I’ll go with you to get coffee, but it’s not a date, we’re not friends, and if you get annoying about asking questions, I will get up and leave immediately,” he growled.

Yata triumphantly smiled. “Perfect. I bet I can play you some songs you’ll end up liking,” he said, thrusting his finger in Fushimi’s face. “I bet if you’re not surrounded by the crowd or…whatever else bugged you the other night, you’ll realize how freaking awesome this type of music is!” Yata said eagerly.

Clicking his tongue, Fushimi turned away from Yata’s intense gesture. “Doubt it. I’m coming for the free coffee.”

~

Fushimi found people like Yata Misaki to be completely and utterly tiresome. The guy had talked the entire way to the coffeeshop—first about clubs, then about music, and finally, he wouldn’t stop talking about coffee and what kind he liked, once they got in the line.

Staring at the board, the shorter turned to him. “Hm, maybe this was kind of a crappy tip. Do you want a sandwich too?”

Fushimi’s gaze fell on the menu and he shrugged. He knew it wasn’t really going to matter what he said because Yata was going to insist. “Alright, I’ll have a chicken sandwich,” he said. “But I don’t want any of the lettuce, tomatoes or mayonnaise,” he muttered.

“You’re taking all the good parts off!” Yata exclaimed, folding his arms.

“It’s my tip, isn’t it?” Fushimi quickly retorted, and Yata shut up about it altogether.

Yata ordered for both of them and grabbed the number from the cashier. Taking a seat near the window, Yata leaned back in the chair. “So have you always hated music? Did your parents let you listen to stuff? Did they listen to stuff?”

He would never have touched anything his parents had interest in. Clicking his tongue, Fushimi turned his gaze towards the window. “Even if they listened to music, I never heard what they listened to, and I’m sure their taste was crap,” he snapped. Fushimi didn’t have to look at Yata’s face to know he was taken aback. But Fushimi had no desire to talk about his parents to anyone, especially this stranger he barely knew. He had gotten out of his house for a reason and he was never going to go back.

“Alright, forget that. You didn’t have a favorite radio station or anything?” he asked.

Fushimi shook his head as the waitress placed their food down, exchanging it for the number they had placed on the table. “No. I listened to a little bit of punk rock back in high school, but that was it.”

Yata began to laugh, his eyes squinting and his mouth opening wide as his deep laughter filled the air. Fushimi had never met someone so completely carefree—maybe Doumyouji? But there was something so different about the way Yata carried himself. “You would be the kind of asshole to listen to punk rock in high school!” he chortled, a snort slipping through his nose.

“I’m not sure what that means, but okay,” Fushimi sighed taking a bite into the mediocre sandwich. He was regretting not requesting money for a tip instead.

“Look, I find it hard to believe you hate all music,” Yata continued

“You find it hard to believe I don’t like _your_ music,” Fushimi retorted snappily.

“Well, that too, but mostly I’m shocked you have no musical taste of your own!” Yata said.

“I work better in the silence, and I don’t enjoy loud, overbearing noise,” Fushimi explained, though he felt he shouldn’t really have to explain himself.

“Okay but not all EDM is loud and overbearing,” Yata pouted. “Ah…uhm…EDM is electronic dance music,” he explained. “Some of it is really soothing!”

“Right. I highly doubt any sort of club music would ever be soothing,” Fushimi scoffed, clicking his tongue before he took a long sip of his coffee.

“No! Really! I know you don’t believe me. But trust me, there are all kinds I could name—”

“Please don’t,” Fushimi said, interrupting him immediately. He hadn’t come to get coffee with Yata to get a history of club music. Though he wasn’t really sure _why_ he had come to get coffee with Yata. It certainly wasn’t as good as a regular tip, but maybe it was because Yata had been so damn enthusiastic about it all, he couldn’t bring himself to say no. Since when had he been weak to enthusiasm, he wondered.

“Alright fine. You have to at least let me play you something of mine. Something different than what I played in the club, okay?!” Yata urged. His eyes were shining against the setting sun, the rays barely shone through the window, and Fushimi hated how it seemed as though nothing would dissuade Yata.

“How do you expect me to hear it? It’s far too loud in here and it would be rude to play here anyway,” he shrugged. Easy solution—there was no way for him to hear whatever Yata planned on sharing.

“Hm,” Yata pursed his lips. “Good point.” He closed his eyes, as though he were deep in thought. Fushimi was about to tell him to forget about it, since he didn’t want to listen anyway, but Yata’s eyes shot open and he slammed his hands on the table, standing up. “I know! You can come back to my place! I have a small area in my room for my mixing and work!” he said loudly, and half of the small cafe stopped to stare at him, blinking. Slowly, Yata sat back down and cleared his throat. “A-Anyway, it’d be perfect!”

“No,” Fushimi said flatly.

“No?!” Yata exclaimed, looking upset.

“You heard me. All you want is for me to stroke your ego and say your music isn’t that bad. I don’t even know you, like I said before, I don’t know why you care. I’m sure your music is fine, especially for people that like bullshit like that. I don’t have time to go to your house and listen to crap I don’t care about,” Fushimi said and stood up, grabbing his coat as he did. “So thank you for the ‘tip’ but we’re done here.” Fushimi couldn’t stand the look on Yata’s face once he glanced back down. His eyes had sank and his lips had curled into a small pout. He probably had imagined this going much smoother—he’d convince Fushimi to listen to his other music and Fushimi would’ve been so impressed he would’ve forgotten all about being angry in the club and Yata would’ve been the one to reawaken Fushimi’s musical taste. Unfortunately for him, none of that was going to happen.

“You really are a soulless asshole,” Yata scoffed, his pout quickly turning into an angry glare. It was much easier to see that than the hurt which had flashed through his hazel hues just moments before.

“Guess I am,” Fushimi muttered, clicking his tongue as he walked out the front door of the restaurant. He’d never have to see Yata again now as long as he left Fushimi alone.

~

As Yata watched Fushimi walk out of the cafe, he felt his heart sink. Fushimi was right—his opinion about Yata’s music really didn’t matter at all. But for some reason, Yata simply couldn’t let it go. He couldn’t imagine what his life would be without music, but who was he to force his own thoughts and tastes onto Fushimi.

He sighed, and shut his eyes, trying to listen to what the world sounded like when he didn’t have his headphones on. The first thing he noticed was his own breathing—the way the air rushed into his nose, cool air filling his lungs through his nostrils. After that, it was hard to stop noticing it, but he took a deep breath and listened to the sounds around him. Two women were babbling on in the corner of the room, a chair moved against the ground with a groaning creak, a bell signaled gently every time the door opened—Yata began to tap his foot in time with the cafe’s natural rhythm. Of course, it wasn’t perfect—a person would cough, or move strangely, throwing off the timing, but it didn’t have to be perfect to still be music. The world was full of music, it just depended on what you chose to listen to, or if you chose to listen at all.

Yata found it hard to believe that Fushimi didn’t listen to _anything_. He worked in an office, so there had to be plenty of sounds around—people typing, the light hum of a printer or copy machine, phones, the occasional conversation here or there.

 Standing up, Yata grabbed his laptop bag and immediately headed to his apartment. It wouldn’t be perfect, and sure, it shouldn’t have mattered, but it did. Yata wasn’t going to let Fushimi go on listening to nothing, even if he had to force him to open up his ears to the sounds around him.

“Yata-san!” Kamamoto smiled as Yata slammed the door open to their apartment. “You get your laptop back in one piece?” he asked, following Yata when he didn’t answer and instead walked right to his room. Yata pulled out the computer and attached it to the small mixing board on his desk, plugging it in as he waited for the screen to boot up.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s fine, works great now,” he scoffed. “Idiot Fushimi, fixing it and shit.”

“Does that make him an idiot?” Kamamoto asked. “I would think that would make him smart…”

“Shut up,” Yata growled, pulling up his mixing program as he stared at the screen.

“I didn’t realize you were so determined to start working on your new song right now!” Kamamoto smiled. “I’ll leave you alone then.”

“Of course I’m friggin’ determined! The contest is in a few weeks! But more importantly, I have the perfect idea to get Fushimi to listen to my music.”

“Hah?!” Kamamoto exclaimed, stopping dead in his tracks. He had planned on leaving Yata alone, but now he had said that, well, it seemed Kamamoto wasn’t going to leave Yata after all. He should’ve kept his damn mouth shut. “I thought you were finally getting over this whole thing with Fushimi. Your laptop is fixed, he hated the club, you’re definitely not going to see him again anymore!”

“Kamamoto,” he said. “Fushimi doesn’t like music. At all. None. It wasn’t just _me_. I gotta change that! I mean, how sad is that?”

“Well,” Kamamoto scratched his cheek awkwardly. “That is pretty sad, but…”

Blinking, Yata turned to face his best friend, his hazel eyes wide and eager. “But what?”  

“You said yourself the contest is in a few weeks—are you going to stop working on your song for that just to try and convince Fushimi to like music? Your music specifically?” Kamamoto replied.

Pursing his lips, Yata turned back to the screen. Kamamoto had a point. The fall music festival was right around the corner, and he still hadn’t finalized his piece. His DJing had taken off in the past few months, and he was booking far more gigs than normal, but he didn’t want to get cocky. If he was going to at least place in the preliminaries, he’d had to have something good to work with. Something that would ‘wow’ the crowd, and get them completely pumped up. He wanted it to be unique, something that made him a shoe-in for the finals. He was going to play alongside the greats, preferably Suoh Mikoto. Yata had admired him for as long as he could remember.

But something about Fushimi’s situation truly bothered him. He wanted a unique entry for the fall festival, something that could make everyone get up and dance and cheer, but how could he do that if he knew there was a person out there listening to silence? That, and Yata thought if he could get Fushimi to dance to a song, he could get anyone to dance to a song.

“Okay, just imagine it as practice,” Yata explained. “Fushimi hates music, but if I can create something _he_ likes, that means I can definitely create something the rest of my audience likes!” he stated eagerly. It was a genius plan, though Kamamoto didn’t seem all that convinced.

“And what if you come up with something he likes, but makes no sense with the genre! Fushimi is an outlier. Don’t think of pleasing him, think of doing something that will please you. If you like it, your audience will,” Kamamoto pleaded. “You know this.”

“But this is pleasing me!” Yata retorted quickly.

“Alright, whatever you say, Yata-san,” Kamamoto chuckled, rolling his eyes a bit as he left the room, though a smile was still present on his face. Yata never changed, whenever he set his mind to something, he did it, and Yata was going to convince Fushimi to try listening to music again.

“Mmm I think the best thing to do is to start off with sounds Fushimi would be familiar with, like…breathing! No…that might creep him out. Maybe some kind of typing or something,” Yata muttered. Kamamoto had left the room, but Yata was still speaking out loud, spurring on his thinking process. He would work on this for as long as it took, he couldn’t let Fushimi keep living in silence.

 ~

The next morning, Fushimi collapsed into his chair at work with a noisy plop. He tilted his neck, letting his hair fall against the back of the chair as he let out a long groan. Working on Yata’s computer had set him back quite a few days, and now he'd have to play catch up, maybe stay late this evening.

Yawning, he turned on his computer and took a sip of the coffee he had picked up on the way into work. It also hadn’t helped that he’d taken time away to get coffee with the idiot, what a waste of time that had been.

“Good morning, Fushimi-san,” Doumyouji waved, leaning over Fushimi’s cubicle. If the morning hadn’t been tiresome enough, Doumyouji was only going to make it worse.

 “Mm,” he hummed softly, keeping his eyes fixated on the screen booting up in front of him. If he didn’t engage, perhaps Doumyouji would get the hint, and move along to his own cube.

“I heard you had a date last night!” he smiled cheerfully.

“Shh!” he hissed. Doumyouji asking him was one thing, but if Munakata overheard, that would be another mess entirely.

 “Wha-”

“It wasn’t a date,” Fushimi snapped, cutting Doumyouji off.

“It wasn’t? But I heard he took you for food!” he chuckled.

“It was a tip,” Fushimi spoke flatly.

“Eh?! A sandwich isn't exactly a tip…” Doumyouji chuckled. “It sounds more like a date to me,” he smiled, speaking in a singsong voice.

Fushimi stood up, pressing his glasses up onto his face. “Doumyouji...it wasn't a date. He bought me a sandwich, now please. Leave me alone. I'm already behind on on work,” he snarled. Fixing Yata's computer so fast had been productive, and good to get out of the way, but if people in the office kept asking him stupid questions he was going to fall behind.

“Oya Oya, what is this I hear about Fushimi-kun going on a date?”

Scoffing, Fushimi sat down as fast as he could, pressing the coffee cup to his lips to take a long, drawn out sip.

“Oh no, sir!” Doumyouji replied hurriedly. “It wasn't a date! Fushimi-san has made that _very_ clear.”

“What happened exactly?” Munakata inquired.

Fushimi frowned, keeping his gaze fixated on his screen again. Now that Munakata was involved, there was no way Fushimi was going to get around explaining this to either of them. He rubbed his forehead, and stared at the screen with disdain. Better to speak on it now, get both of them out of his hair, then they could all move on with their lives. He'd never have to think about the idiotic DJ again.

“It wasn't a date,” he repeated, turning up towards their eager faces. As he began to speak, both Doumyouji and Munakata's faces seemed to light up, staring at Fushimi with stretched out smiles. “I fixed his laptop a day early, so he took me to get a sandwich. Really all he cared about was my opinion on his music, which I didn't care about,” Fushimi said flatly.

“Ah! Fushimi-kun!” Munakata said, pressing his glasses up. “As always, I'm impressed by your skills and work ethic. You never cease to amaze me!” He looked like a proud teacher, staring at his favorite pupil. “And it sounds like it was quite an experience, having lunch with this client.”

“...Sure,” Fushimi said. “Anyway, I still have a great deal of work which I put off to finish said repair, so I really need to get to it. Especially since you no longer let us stay very late, _sir_.” He spat out the words, wanting both of them to get the hint.

“Still,” Doumyouji hummed, ignoring the glare from Fushimi. “Taking someone out for a sandwich sounds like a date to me. If he wanted to tip you, don't you think he would've just given you money?”

“I was the one who went, and I say, it wasn't a date. So it wasn't. End of story,” Fushimi huffed.

It hadn't been anything like a date. A date was something you went on with a person you actually _liked_. A date was something you enjoyed...and agreed to. Fushimi had done nothing of the sort, in fact, he had specifically made sure it _wasn't_ a date. He didn't like Yata at all. He was a loud, self-centered, self-proclaimed 'artist' Fushimi hoped he'd never see again. But of course, the whole damn office had to go about speculating, because when Munakata was involved, everyone seemed to be in everyone's business, and he prayed that Doumyouji's gossiping would quell everyone's curiosity.

Just as Fushimi began to consider standing up to find somewhere else to attempt to work in peace and quiet, his phone rang, saving him from the horrible conversation between the other two.

“I'm going to take this,” he said, picking up the device.

“Yes, come along Doumyouji-kun,” Munakata smiled. “Fushimi-kun does seem to be quite busy.”

Fushimi hated the way Munakata smiled as he walked away, a knowing smile, as though he thought Fushimi was lying, from what little information the man had about the subject. It was infuriating.

Instead, he turned his gaze to the phone and picked up, though it wasn't a number he recognized. Often times, clients called him to ask questions or schedule a different repair, so Fushimi didn't mind answering a call or two when he wasn't busy. Plus, it had been the perfect excuse to get Munakata and Doumyouji out of his hair.

“Fushimi,” he answered.

“Oh good, this is your phone.” He recognized that voice.

“Yata Misaki. Don't tell me you already broke your laptop again. You haven't even had it back for 24 hours,” he sneered.

“I forgot you're such an asshole,” Yata snapped, a silence hanging between them. “My laptop is fine!”

After a moment, Fushimi cleared his throat. “Is there a reason you called me, then?”

“Oh! Shit, yeah,” he said. “I wanted to ask you to come over and listen to a track.” Fushimi opened his mouth, immediately prepared to say no, but Yata had apparently anticipated the rejection. “Okay I know you're going to say no, but just hear me out. I promise it's different and something you might like! I worked on it just to prove to you that there is some really good music out there!” he said.

Who was this idiot? Why did he care so much about Fushimi's opinion? He didn't know much about music, so he couldn't offer an intelligent viewpoint, but for some reason unbeknownst to Fushimi, his thoughts mattered to Yata.

And actually, for a split second, he didn't hate that.

“Fushimi? You still there?” Yata called out. “Did you hang up on me you prick?!” he called.

“Shut up,” Fushimi sighed. “I'm still here.”

“Oh...okay, then...what do you say?” Yata said, the eagerness easy to hear, even through the distortion of the phone.

“One song,” he muttered.

“What?”

Fushimi sighed, and ran a hand down his face. “I'll hear one song.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LOL So chapter 3 & 4 are kind of weirdly transitional, but things are gonna sort of pick up from there! I hope you guys continue to like this! And thanks again to Adriana for checking this over!!


	4. Chapter 4

Fushimi stood outside of Yata’s house deciding if he should ring the buzzer. It was a three story complex downtown, shared between three different families—Yata and his roommate lived on the third. Standing on the stoop, Fushimi’s finger hovered over the button next to Yata’s name on the call box.

The house wasn’t perfect, most of the paint was chipped on the side, though the DJ probably loved the imperfections. Fushimi could hear Yata’s voice, aimlessly ranting about how the house had character and was perfect for a starving musician such as himself. Fushimi clicked his tongue, the guy was an idiot.

So why he was actually here to give said idiot a chance was beyond him. He had kept his finger hovered above the button, but finally he pushed it. The sooner he started, the sooner he could leave.

“Is that Fushimi?” Yata’s voice echoed through the intercom speaker.

“Yes,” he murmured at the loud, crackling speaker.

“Great! I’ll buzz you in. We’re on the third floor!”

“Yeah I kno—” he began, but was quickly cut off by the obnoxious buzzer.

He yanked open the door and climbed the rickety stairs to the top of the house. The corridors were narrow and tight, and Fushimi wondered how they’d ever gotten furniture up these things. He knocked on the door, which Yata immediately swung open.

“Hey! Glad you made it!” Yata beamed. “Welcome!” He reached forward and wrapped his fingers around Fushimi’s wrist, pulling him inside. Blushing briefly at the touch, Fushimi stared at Yata for a moment, but then quickly yanked his wrist away. Swinging his arms back and forth, Yata rubbed the back of his neck and let out a sigh. “So yeah, this is my place. That’s my room,” he said, gesturing to the first door on his left. “And that’s my roommate, Kamamoto’s room.”

“Yo,” Kamamoto called out, peaking around his door as he said hello.

“And that’s Kamamoto,” Yata chuckled. “This is Fushimi!”

“Figured,” Kamamoto smiled, waving his hand one time.

“I don’t have all day, Yata,” Fushimi scoffed.

“Right! Well, uh, my studio is down the hall,” he said, turning down the longer corridor which went past their small kitchen and living room.

“Nice to meet ya’,” Kamamoto muttered, waving once more as they walked by. He quickly leaned back into his room.

“Hm,” Fushimi grunted. Admittedly, he was happy. He didn’t care about meeting or talking to Yata’s roommate. He followed Yata down the hall, impressed by the small studio he had set up in the back room. There was a mixing board, a keyboard, as well as a few microphones scattered about. His laptop was attached to the sound board and Yata pulled over the extra chair, gesturing for Fushimi to sit down.

“So, I’ve been working on this for a couple of days,” he said, sitting down in the chair in front of his laptop. “I think you’re going to enjoy it,” he grinned. “Even you, Fushimi, hater of all music couldn’t possibly hate this,” Yata smirked, waiting for the laptop to boot up.

“We’ll see,” he replied, sitting down in the chair next to Yata.

“Hey, uh, you know…even if you do hate it, which you won’t!” he said quickly. “Thanks for…coming to listen anyway,” he muttered, as his cheeks were tinted the slightest hint of red.

Fushimi scoffed internally. Whenever he started to think Yata was one of the most annoying people he had ever come across, he did something damn sincere like that and Fushimi wanted to hate him more. Only he couldn’t, he couldn’t hate him at all.

“Well seeing as you can’t seem to let my opinion go, it was the least I could do to get you to leave me alone,” he said. “Otherwise I’m sure you’d be calling me up every damn day, trying to convince me otherwise.”

Frowning, Yata turned back towards his laptop. “Okay, okay, let’s just listen to the song,” he said, slamming his hand down on the space bar. Fushimi rolled his eyes—no wonder the idiot had broken his laptop.

Yata’s new song began to play, and immediately Fushimi’s gaze flicked towards the anxious DJ. As the soft, rolling beat began, Yata bounced his leg along with the beat. The back of his palm rest against his mouth, and though Fushimi expected him to be staring right at him to wait for his reaction, Yata’s gaze was fixated on the slow moving WAV form on the screen. Was he judging himself before Fushimi even gave any sort of approval?

The beat began to pick up as a gentle piano came in at a slow tempo, falling in time with the bass and claps in the background of the piece. It was much calmer than the obnoxious, overbearing music he had played at the club the first evening Fushimi had ever seen Yata.

As the song continued to build, Fushimi expected a singer to appear, but none seemed to be present. The song continued to build the soft piano, though more sounds from what he assumed was a synthesizer were added in. Admittedly, Fushimi didn’t find it all that offensive to his ears. He wasn’t quite sure if it was something he would listen to on a regular basis, but it was definitely an improvement.

 Occasionally, he noticed Yata’s hazel eyes flick in his direction, anticipating a negative reaction it seemed, from the hesitation Fushimi saw in his gaze, but none came, at least not during the song. The sounds picked up, the bass dropping into a faster more upbeat tempo, and some of the noises Fushimi couldn’t quite place annoyed him. It had been a much better song before he added in all the electronic beats and layers.

Silence fell over the room once the song had ended and Fushimi sucked in a large breath of air through his nostrils as he stared at the screen. Yata’s chair creaked ever so slightly with the rapid movement of his leg bouncing up and down.

“…So?” Yata asked, clearing his throat. The words had croaked out of his mouth, as though nerves had made his throat dry.

“Mm,” Fushimi muttered, unsure of how to answer. He hadn’t exactly liked the song, but he hadn’t hated it either, and Yata had been so excited. “I hated it less than your other things,” he said finally.

“Really?” Yata perked up. “Coming from you, that’s almost a compliment,” he chuckled. “So you really liked it?”

“I didn’t say that. It’s not something I would listen to again. The beats got cluttered at the end. The piano was alright at the beginning I suppose, then you added in too much of that electronic crap to keep me engaged.” As soon as the words had begun to pour out of his mouth, Fushimi found himself unable to stop. He hadn’t meant to be _so_ mean to Yata, but something about Yata’s assumptions and eagerness pissed Fushimi off, so the rambling turned more into ranting. “But if you want to twist my words into a compliment, then yes, it was better than the songs you played in that disgusting club.”

Yata’s jaw dropped. “You…really are soulless, aren’t you?” he said.

“Yeah, I guess I am,” Fushimi growled. There was no sense in arguing with Yata. Not when he was so hell bent on getting Fushimi to like and appreciate his music, no matter what Fushimi’s opinion was. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have better ways to spend my day off.”

“Well gee, thanks for nothing,” Yata scoffed, folding his arms indignantly as Fushimi stood up.

“You’re the one who invited me here. You’re the one who was so needy and desperate for my approval. I never promised to like anything,” Fushimi muttered. Even as he spoke the words, he didn’t mean for them to come out so harshly. There was a small part of him which liked that Yata wanted his opinion, and he hadn’t _hated_ the song, yet the words which kept pouring from his mouth made it sound like he had.

“Well I’m sorry your life is so boring and depressing that you can’t even enjoy music!” Yata huffed, glaring at the other.

“Are you so closed-minded you can’t possibly imagine people liking something different from you?” Fushimi snapped. “Do you enjoy every song you hear on the radio? No? Because people have different tastes. But someone likes those songs you hate enough to put them on the radio,” he said, folding his arms angrily.

“But you don’t listen to anything!” Yata retorted.

“And that’s my damn choice. And now that we’ve successfully wasted each other’s time, I’ll see myself out,” he said, heading towards the front door to Yata’s apartment.

Closing the door behind him, he paused at the top of the stairs. It had been far more of a disaster than he had meant it to be—coming here had been a huge mistake.

~~

“Yata-san?”

Moments after Fushimi had left, Yata slammed his laptop shut and kicked the chair in front of him, sending it flying across the room. “Fucking ass!”

Kamamoto peaked his head into the room, mouth dropping when he saw Yata fuming in front of the sound board. “Yata-san, don’t break things…” Kamamoto muttered. “You don’t really have the money to replace this stuff,” he said flatly.

“Can you believe him? What an asshole!” Yata growled.

“What happened?” Kamamoto asked, rolling the chair back towards Yata. Reaching forward, he yanked the chair from Kamamoto’s hand and spun it around, flopping down in it.

“I invited Fushimi to hear the song I put together for him, and all he did was shit on it!”

Tilting his head, Kamamoto sighed. “I’m not sure what you expected Yata-san. I mean, that guy hasn’t said anything nice to you since you met him…” Kamamoto trailed off. Yata was angry, that much was clear. His eyes were narrowed, and his lips were pursed tightly, as though his mind was trying to wrap itself around the events which had transpired moments before.

“I get that,” Yata snarled, his hands coming to his head as he removed his hat. “I just…” His lips curled into a pout, hurt flickering across his eyes.

“Eh? What?” Kamamoto pushed.

“I just thought if I did something unique and catered towards him, he’d give it more of a chance, you know?” Sighing, he opened his laptop again and stared at the illuminated screen. 

“Hey man, I’m sure the song’s great,” Kamamoto said softly, happy Yata had seemingly calmed down. “Don’t listen to that guy, he’s not an expert or anything!” he smiled.

Yata raised an eyebrow at his best friend. “Yeah but, neither are you,” he smirked.

Snorting, Kamamoto shrugged his broad shoulders. “Mm I guess you’re right. But at least I listen to shit,” he nodded.

“Yeah,” Yata smirked, punching at Kamamoto’s arm. “Sometimes you listen to literal shit.”

“Hey now! I have good taste. I like your stuff and Mikoto’s…” he mumbled, though he was happy to see Yata was calming down. Even if it was partially at the expense of himself, Kamamoto would much rather have seen Yata happy.

“I guess,” Yata snorted, pulling his hat back on his head. “He’s an idiot,” he muttered, running his finger over the edge of his laptop. “A smart idiot, but a fucking idiot,” he grumbled.

“Yeah, don’t listen to him,” Kamamoto urged as his phone let out a soft ding and the screen lit up.

Yata stared at his laptop wondering where he could’ve possibly messed up. It wasn’t how he imagined this day going at all. Fushimi was supposed to come over, hear the song, smile, love it, want to hear more, etc. Okay, maybe the idea of him smiling was taking things a little too far. And perhaps him ‘loving it’ was also a bit of an exaggeration as well. Either way, the last thing Yata had expected was the reaction he’d received. He actually had thought he and Fushimi would’ve maybe been friends after the whole ordeal, but that definitely wasn’t going to be the case. It seemed he was going to have to let it go, just as Kamamoto had urged him to from the get go.

“Oi, Yata-san,” Kamamoto said, breaking Yata of his looping thoughts. “Chitose just texted me and asked if you wanted to DJ downtown tonight. He said he knows it’s last minute, and you don’t normally do Sundays, but someone canceled on him.” 

Staring at his laptop, Yata clenched his fists. He wasn’t really in the mood to play music after Fushimi had so intensely rejected his hard work, but he also didn’t want to mope around because of the asshole anymore.

“Tell him sure. I’ll get my shit together,” Yata said, quickly standing up to start packing up his laptop.

“Alright! Yata is back in business!” Kamamoto cheered.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, waving him off.

“And hey, bring that song tonight, I’m sure the people at the club will love it!”

Smirking, Yata nodded. Stupid Fushimi could think whatever he wanted, he was going to take Kamamoto’s advice and focus on the upcoming fall festival, bouncing back better than before.

~~

“Yo! Thanks for coming Yata-kun!” Chitose's flat palm hit Yata's lower back with a loud slap.

“No problem,” he said smiling. “Thanks for asking. I always love spinning for a crowd.” He gave Chitose a thumbs up as he placed his bag down on the couch.

“Yeah! Plus, Kamamoto said you could really use the pick me up,” he chuckled.

Frowning, Yata flicked his gaze angrily over towards his chubby roommate. “Did he now?” he snorted. “I hope that's all he said,” he grunted, his eyebrow twitching angrily. It was one thing for Kamamoto to know of Yata's struggles with Fushimi, but he didn't feel like listening to Chitose and the others give him a hard time about it.

“Don't worry, don't worry. I know you'll do a good job,” Chitose said. “I only ask the best people at the last minute like this,” he smirked.

Rolling his eyes, Yata carried his laptop over to the table. “Oh don't worry, I'm gonna kick some ass out there. I've got an awesome new track.”

“Perfect!” Chitose said. “Get set up, and you'll be up next. It's a Sunday night, so not many people are here anyway. Low pressure gig.” Chitose left the room to relieve the other DJ of his duties.

Yata nodded, pulling out his laptop and small mixing board. He tugged off his large white sweater, already feeling hot. Tonight wasn't all that important; nothing like his last Friday night gig, but after his pride had been bruised by Fushimi, Yata was ready to do something different. Rubbing his neck, he placed the large headphones around his neck, already feeling the beat from the DJ in the main room. It was a slow pulse, deeply reverberating in the floorboards of the club. It was a smoother beat, nothing crazy like a Friday or Saturday night crowd, though it was still early. It was nearing 10 PM, so the crowd would probably get a more rowdy, but Yata thought it would be a great time to test out the new slower beat song on this crowd, then transition them into something a bit more upbeat and faster. There was only one DJ scheduled after him, so Yata wanted to set the mood high for him.

“Ready?” Chitose asked, peering in through the door, and Yata quickly nodded.

“Ready.”

Making his way to the stage, Yata was surprised by how packed the club was. He supposed there were a large amount of people who were maybe on vacation, or took a long weekend. It was nearing the end of the summer after all, so plenty of kids were out partying, desperately clinging to their last few late nights and summer partying.

Holding his laptop, he placed it down, switching the set beat off as he took control of the rhythm. The crowd was packed, but they seemed to be at a lower energy; Yata was going to change that, and he was going to start with the song Fushimi had hated. It was a good song, and it had a nice build. If he could get this crowd going, he knew it would prove Fushimi wrong, even if the asshole couldn't see it himself.

The slow beat pumped through the crowd—a few of the intoxicated patrons swaying about, their drinks sloshing in their hands. He turned a dial, bringing in the piano beat Fushimi had said grew tiresome after a while. The few dancing crowd members picked up their speed, dancing faster, in time with the beat of the piano. He smirked, dancing with them, happy when a few of them cheered. As the last few electronic beats erupted towards the end of the song, Yata cheered and danced with them, creating the relationship he loved, between himself, the music, and the audience. He laughed happily, watching the people dancing to the new song, clearly enjoying themselves.

Fushimi was an idiot. This _was_ a good song, the people already loved it. It wasn't really what he was looking to do for the fall festival entry, but it was a start. He couldn't believe he had let Fushimi dictate what it was he was good at. What did that guy know? He hadn't danced to any of the songs Yata had played, songs that everyone else loved. Obviously, Fushimi was the one in the wrong, when everyone else agreed. Feeling his spirit rejuvenate from the way the club-goers danced, Yata flipped a switch, bringing in a new track, speeding through the music. He put his headphones on, dancing in time with the audience and the beats. He smiled, this was perfect. This was what he loved, this was what he was good at.

Yata lost track of time, loving how the members of the bar seemed to get up and dance the faster he picked up the beat. People moved off of the side of the bar, they dragged their friends to the middle of the dance floor and rocked their bodies in time with the beat. Time flew by faster than Yata realized, and he jerked back when Chitose tapped him on the shoulder.

“You're good for the night Yata!” he called over the loud music.

“Already?!” he yelled back, while Chitose nodded in response. The two left the stage as the DJ following Yata took his spot. Glancing back, the other guy smiled at him, but Yata couldn't help but feel a little envious. He loved being up there, even if sometimes he needed to be reminded. He'd have to thank Kamamoto later.

“You fucking killed it, Yata-san!” Kamamoto cheered, wrapping an arm around his neck as he cheered happily. “We gotta celebrate!”

“Yeah!” he smiled, falling into Kamamoto, the heavier man clearly already vaguely intoxicated. “It was pretty awesome…" he mumbled, not sure if Kamamoto even heard him. Not that he really cared. He was more excited by how awesome it had gone, pulling him from his weird rut, thanks to that asshole Fushimi. “Thanks man, I really needed it,” Yata said, punching Kamamoto in his arm.

“No problem! Let's go get you a celebration drink!” Kamamoto yelled.

“First one’s on the house, okay?” Chitose grinned. “You really did kill it. I'm telling you, you're gonna kick some major ass at Fall Fest,” he said. Yata smiled, hoping his song for that would be even better than this.

It didn't take long for Yata to catch up to, and even surpass Kamamoto. Yata had never been much of a drinker, so it never took long for a few drinks to go right to his head. Normally, he didn't drink after a job, but seeing as today had been rather unique, he decided to make an exception. Swaying about with the music, Yata missed the sound of his own. He didn't mind dancing to other people's music, in fact, he enjoyed it...but he'd been enjoying sharing his own work with the audience.

“You know Kamamoto,” Yata said, collapsing onto one of the bar stools. “I _am_ going to kick ass at the fall festival!” he yelled.

The two boys laughed hard. “Hell yes!” Kamamoto said. “That's the confident Yata I know!”

“Yeah, fuck Fushimi! That guy's an ass! This shit is…good!” he slurred, as though he couldn't quite find the words.

“Yeah forget that guy. Did you see how well you worked this crowd tonight?!” Kamamoto swung his arm out, gesturing wildly to the crowd behind them.

“Yeah! It was amazing, they loved that song!” he said.

“They did!” Kamamoto agreed, nodding with a large smile.

“I don't know how Fushimi could hate music. Man…must be so…so…BORING!” Yata said, leaning over the bar as he downed what was left in his tall glass. “I kind of feel like he told me he hated the song cause he didn't want to admit that maybe, just maaaybeeee, he liked it a teensy bit.” Holding up his thumb and point finger to Kamamoto's face, he slowly made the space between his fingers smaller and smaller. “That much. He probably liked it that much.”

Kamamoto placed his hand over Yata's fingers and squeezed his digits together so there was practically zero space in between. “Maybe that much.”

Yata frowned and slammed his hand down against the bar. “Damn! You're right!” he gasped. “What a fuck!” He shook his head and pulled out his phone. “You know what. I'm going to call this idiot and tell him!”

Kamamoto's eyes widened. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, Yata-san. What are you gonna say?! You're not exactly sober…" he mumbled, but Yata was already scrolling through his contacts to find Fushimi's number.

“I'm going to tell him exactly what I think!” he snapped.

“Uh…” Kamamoto began, but lost track of what exactly he planned on saying. It was far too late to stop Yata anyway. He was drunk, and rather determined when it came to Fushimi.

“What? It's not like the asshole is ever going to talk to me again!” he said, holding the phone up to his ear after pressing down on Fushimi's name far harder than he had to. Glancing at Kamamoto his eyes widened. “It's ringing!” he hissed, holding out the word.

The phone rang for a few minutes, but then went straight to voicemail. Yata groaned. “Fine I'll just leave the idiot a message. Yeah, Fushimi. It's Yata, you know that guy who's music you love to insult. I'm just calling to tell you you're an idiot. I DJed tonight and I played that song and the crowed LOVED it. So yeah, you're some music hating freak and I hope you enjoy living your life in silence!” he said, hanging up decisively.

“You sure told him!” Kamamoto chortled, taking a large gulp of what was left of his drink.

“Hell yeah!” Yata said, jumping down off the bar stool.

“It's not like you're going to see him again, so good thing you told him off. Now you can focus on other shit!” Kamamoto smirked.

“Exactly. So let's go dance!” Yata said, running out to the dance floor, forgetting he'd ever even picked up his phone as he lost himself drunkenly in the music.

~~

Fushimi frowned as he stared at his phone, confused by the loud, and rather obnoxious message he awoke to. The red-haired DJ was obviously disgustingly intoxicated at some loud club, he could tell from the way he was screaming his message into the phone. Rolling his eyes, Fushimi deleted the message. He didn't need, or want, to listen to Yata call him an idiot ever again. Well, as long as the dumbass didn't break his laptop again, Fushimi would never have to see him. He scoffed, what a thing to wake up to.

As always, he made his way into work early, and took a seat at his desk. The quicker and earlier he got there, the higher the chance he had of avoiding the others, meaning he could enjoy his coffee in peace and actually get some work done. This would be before Munakata or anyone else felt the need to bother him with mundane information or questions.

Thankfully, Fushimi hadn't told anyone about his meeting with Yata over the weekend. If his co-workers had known about that, they all would've been bombarding him with questions. But as far as they were concerned, he hadn't talked to Yata since their awkward sandwich date. Fushimi hoped it stayed that way. Yata's message had been obnoxious for a whole slew of reasons; One, because who wanted to wake up to a drunken message like that, and two, it meant he still vaguely cared about his opinion. Even though he was telling him off, the fact that the idiotic DJ had called him was proof enough of this. The way he had explained his opinion was meant to be the end of things, but apparently it wasn't. However, he metaphorically had his fingers crossed this drunken message was Yata’s form of closure.

Besides the message, Fushimi's Monday was going by surprisingly smoothly—which was nice, since the past two weeks had been insanely hectic for the dark-haired boy. Fushimi hated Mondays since they generally set the tone for the whole week, but today he didn't mind it. So far, it had been quiet, so Fushimi hoped this would be a nice week where he could get his work done without being bothered. Munakata had asked for the new program to be finished by the end of the week, and Fushimi had fallen behind since he'd taken up that idiot's computer repairs.

Silently, he wondered if Yata remembered the message he had left him. He snickered imagining the red-head waking up, completely horrified that he had left such a blatantly drunk message. Or maybe instead, Yata was proud of his message, happy he had finally told him off. Fushimi shrugged, deciding not to care anymore. He'd already spent far too much of his time thinking about this. Rubbing his forehead, he focused on his screen instead.

“Good morning, Fushimi-kun! Happy Monday,” Munakata beamed, standing behind him.

Fushimi jumped, always shocked by the presence of the other man. “Sir,” he coughed, clearing his throat. He wasn't sure how Munakata always had the uncanny ability to pop up out of nowhere.

“Did you have an enjoyable weekend?” The smile stayed on his face, his hands clasped behind his back as he stared at Fushimi.

Fushimi's face paled even more than usual. Did Munakata know? No. There was absolutely no way. Fushimi hadn't told anyone he was going to Yata's house. He really didn't want to think about how Munakata would've found out about something like that. Was he bugging their phones? Or maybe he was having all his employees followed? Though Fushimi wasn't sure what it mattered what they did in their free time; they were a simple tech company, not some super secret government agency.

“Fushimi-kun?” Munakata repeated, still smiling as he waited for an answer. “Did something happen?”

“Tsk. No. It was fine,” he scoffed, quickly recovering. The longer he hesitated the higher the chance was that Munakata would figure out what was going on. Already he could see the way the tall man narrowed his eyes at him ever so slightly, wary of Fushimi's answer. Though Fushimi knew Munakata knew better than to press further.

“Good,” he smiled, nodding once again. “I wanted to speak with you about the end of the summer barbecue coming up at the end of this week,” Munakata began.

Fushimi resisted the urge to groan. Munakata loved hosting these gatherings for the office. Usually it was just a small party in Munakata's backyard. There was always food, music, and games, and the parties were a requirement. Munakata felt it brought them closer as a team and company. Fushimi thought they were absolute bullshit. Usually Fushimi drank a few drinks and stood by the food picking at anything that didn't have veggies in it, and making sure to purposefully avoid anything Awashima made herself.

“I'm coming. I already promised you I'd be coming this year as I do every year.” He'd tried to avoid it the first year, and Munakata had bothered him about it every day for almost a month. Fushimi quickly learned skipping out wasn't worth it.

“Oya?” he smiled, pushing his glasses up. “I'm glad to hear that, as always, Fushimi-kun. However, that's not what I wanted to speak to you about.”

“Hm?” Fushimi replied softly, raising an eyebrow. He waited silently, praying Munakata wasn't going to add anything else to this party that would make Fushimi want to die before the end of the weekend.

“You see, the normal man I hire to coordinate the music for the party had to cancel on me. He's gotten quite famous in the last year or so,” Munakata chuckled. Fushimi didn't reply, simply waiting for Munakata to get on with it. The dark-haired man smiled. “Anyway, I was wondering if you perchance knew someone to take his place?”

He knew. Fushimi's face fell. He _had_ to know. There was no way Munakata would come to ask _him_ if he knew people. Everyone knew Fushimi despised people, and avoided them at all costs.

“Tsk. What makes you think I would know someone?” Fushimi snapped, far angrier than he meant to.

Munakata shrugged and let out a soft hum. “No need to be angry, Fushimi-kun. I was asking everyone in the office.” Peering in the direction of Doumyouji's cubicle, Fushimi clicked his tongue again. He could only assume one of the three, Akiyama, Hidaka, or Doumyouji, had alerted Munakata to Fushimi's...acquaintanceship (if you could call it that) with the DJ from the club they had gone to.

Flicking his gaze to his phone, Fushimi rolled his eyes. “I may...know a guy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4 is here, sorry for a weird transition chapter, AGAIN. LOL Somehow, I've legit been updating this weekly LMAO My resolve is strong LOL. (it helps I have a good chunk written) As usual Adriana read this ridiculous stuff for me LOL thank goodness she catches things like...how Yata removes his hat in weird ways LOL. Anyway, I hope you guys liked this, I'm really excited for the next chapter!


	5. Chapter 5

It had been about a week since Yata had seen Fushimi, and it had been about 5 days since he'd last talked to him on the phone. He wasn't looking forward to actually seeing Fushimi, especially after the way he had completely humiliated himself in his drunken message to the other boy. He hadn't meant to drunk dial Fushimi, but when did he ever do anything he meant to when he was drunk? However, realizing it in the morning had been quite a shock, horror washing over his entire body.

And now, Yata was about to see him face to face.

When Fushimi's number had popped up on his screen on Monday, Yata had practically dropped the damn thing. He should’ve expected the asshole would call him back, most likely to bitch about Yata’s untimely call. Hissing, he glanced around quickly, trying to decide in the short amount of time he had, if he should answer it or not.

“Hello!?” he had muttered.

“Hungover?” Fushimi's tone chuckled into his ear.

“S-Shut up! I had...a gig! It went well, so I celebrated,” Yata scoffed. He'd barely woken up and already this ass was pissing him off.

“Oh, so do you normally drink on the job?” Fushimi teased.

“What? No!” Yata scoffed. “Actually I never do,” he stated indignantly. “Last night...was an exception,” he muttered.

“Right. Anyway I called—”

“To yell at me for being an ass on the phone? I get it, okay. I get it. And I'm sorry. It was rude. But you were rude first—”

“Yata…”

“You know, with how you came over and just left really fast.”

“Yata.”

“And you argued with me the whole damn time! I mean we could've talked it through instead of you just storming out…”

“Yata. I called to hire you.”

“Eh?” Yata froze, pulling the phone away from his ear momentarily to make sure he was talking to the person he thought. Definitely Fushimi. “Hire me?” he asked, incredulous.

“Yes. Hire you,” Fushimi repeated, though it sounded as though he was gritting his teeth as he spoke.

“Why? I'm not good at technology shit,” Yata sighed. Was this Fushimi's weird way of pranking him?

“No, idiot!” he groaned on the other end of the line. “This might come as a surprise to you, especially after you left me that...lovely message to wake up to...but...I want to hire you as a DJ for my boss' party. Or music coordinator, whatever you want to call yourself.” He clicked his tongue loudly.

“EH!? What?! YOU want ME to play music for a party you're going to attend?” he called out loudly, staring at the screen.

“Stop...yelling. Yes. My boss needs someone to take the spot of the guy he normally uses. Pay is decent...You'd just be in a backyard, so nothing too loud or fancy. Think you can handle it?” Fushimi asked.

And this was why Yata now stood, outside of Fushimi's boss' house, waiting for the other to let him in.

Taking a deep breath, he curled his hand into a fist.

“It's okay, Yata,” he began, talking to himself. “You can do this. You were a dick to Fushimi, but he still called you about this job, right? So it's fine. It's cool. You got this,” he said, psyching himself up.

“Talking to yourself? Seems you get crazier and crazier every time I see you,” Fushimi scoffed, standing on the front lawn.

Turning bright red, Yata glared at the taller. “W-What the hell, Fushimi! You get creepier!” he snarled, stepping down from the stairs.

Clicking his tongue, Fushimi shook his head. “Come on. You can set up back here.”

“Yeah, okay,” he grumbled quickly. Yata was surprised Fushimi hadn't argued more with him. Normally, the two bantered back and forth, exchanging a few quips, but Fushimi had given up quite fast—he did seem kind of annoyed.

“Avoid talking to my boss if you can. I'm sure he'll come over and say something to you, but don't say a word about me, or how you know me, alright?” Fushimi said as he rested his hand on the handle to the large wooden gate on the side of the house.

“Uh...sure okay? Why?” Yata asked, folding his arms as he waited for Fushimi to open the door.

“Because, I said so.” Fushimi clicked his tongue again. “I'm a very private person, and my boss likes to be in everyone's business,” Fushimi sighed. “I don't want him knowing anymore than he already does.”

“Uh...yeah, okay,” Yata said, following Fushimi through the gate. It was weird, Yata thought, Fushimi had called him to do this job for his boss, and yet, Fushimi sounded like he hated the guy. Yata wanted to ask, but as with most things with Fushimi, it seemed better not to press him on the subject.

The two walked over to a small table near the back window, which Fushimi tugged away from the wall to give Yata more space. “Here,” he said. “You can set up here. Have fun doing whatever it is you wanna do, just keep in mind this is a casual party and not a club,” Fushimi scoffed.

Pulling out his laptop, Yata set it down on the table. “I know. I'm good with music, ass, something you don't know anything about. This isn't the type of party where I'd break out crazy club music,” he sighed. “You hired me, so you obviously think I can handle it, let me do my job,” Yata scoffed. He set his small mixing board on the table, as well as his headphones.

Fushimi looked surprised by how intensely Yata had talked back to him. “Right,” he said. “Then enjoy.”

“I'm surprised you're here,” Yata began, waiting for his laptop to boot up.

“Eh? Why? It's my boss' party. Plus,” he rolled his eyes. “He makes them mandatory.” There it was. The real reason Fushimi was at this party in the first place. Based on the way things were set up around the backyard, Yata had a feeling it wasn't a very rowdy party, but he could tell any sort of gathering of more than 2 or so people wasn't Fushimi's scene.

“So,” Yata grinned devilishly. “You're stuck here.”

“Yup.”

“How do you survive?” he teased.

“Alcohol,” Fushimi muttered.

“Hey! Maybe this time you can call me and leave an angry message!” Yata blurted out, immediately regretting it. Minus the one brief moment on the phone, Fushimi hadn't brought it up, and now Yata had just reminded him of the very thing he didn't want to talk about.

Fushimi raised an eyebrow and Yata immediately frowned, glancing away. “Just a joke…" he muttered.

“Tsk,” Fushimi clicked his tongue. “Whatever. Get set up.” As he said that, his back was turned and he immediately began to walk away, leaving Yata on his own.

So far the party was basically empty, but Yata had come a bit early to set up. He watched as Fushimi stepped up onto the deck and inside the large house. Silently, he wondered just how rich Fushimi's boss was, and subsequently, it made him wonder just how rich Fushimi was. Yata was actually surprised Fushimi was here early too, Yata had kind of assumed he'd be dealing more with his boss. Perhaps Fushimi enjoyed his job more than he let on. Shrugging, Yata decided to focus on getting ready.

It was a garden party, different than most of the normal things he DJed, but he wanted to do a good job, even if the music was different from what he normally played. Fushimi had called him and hired him, which meant he was counting on him—Yata didn’t want to let him down, especially not after the embarrassing phone call. Yata wanted the sound to be more relaxed, something Mikoto would come up with. Just staring at his screen he began to hum with excitement; trying out new flavors of music was one of his favorite pastimes, unlike a certain someone he knew.

~~

Fushimi wasn't quite sure how Munakata did it, but somehow he always was able to convince Fushimi to help with the most mundane activities—like setting up the party for instance. He'd arrived an hour before he was supposed to, upon Munakata's instructions.

“Fushimi-kun, thank you for offering your time to help me. I always appreciate what a hard worker you are,” he had smiled.

“I didn't offer, and this really has nothing to do with our job,” Fushimi muttered, clicking his tongue under his breath. Fushimi hated that he had the most difficult time saying no to the eager man.

“Now, now, team-building is essential to any workplace,” Munakata urged. “It's important we not only trust each other in the office, but outside of it as well.”

“Right.” And Munakata continued on, as though Fushimi had actually agreed with him, instead of brushing him off completely. It was moments like these Fushimi regretted having ever met the man on the subway.

In the end, however, it had been for the best he’d arrived early, since he much preferred to be the one to speak to Yata. If Munakata approached him, Fushimi was certain Yata seemed like the type of idiot who would cave under any pressure from the occasionally overbearing man. The last thing Fushimi needed was Munakata finding out about the conversations he had shared with Yata. No way.

When Yata had showed up, Fushimi led him to the backyard, put him in his position, and told him not to move. He prayed he'd listen—he’d seemed confused about it, but he hoped that confusion would help the idiot stay put.

“Fushimi-san!” Doumyouji's voice called out, as he walked through the gate around the back to Munakata's yard. Following him were Hidaka and Akiyama, of course—the three were practically inseparable. Immediately, Fushimi wished he could've turned around to avoid them altogether. “WOAH! ISN'T THAT—” Doumyouji gasped, leaning his body in the general direction of Yata.

Rolling his eyes, Fushimi folded his arms. “Yes. Quiet.”

“So Munakata _did_ ask you if you knew anyone! I'm so happy you brought your DJ friend, I knew you would." No surprise Doumyouji had been the one to alert Munakata to Fushimi's rather shocking 'friendship' (if you could label it as such) with Yata. “I wonder what happened to the other guy,” Doumyouji sighed.

“Don’t care,” Fushimi said, glancing back towards Yata.

“Don’t be like that, Fushimi-san!” Doumyouji continued. “That guy was good!" Doumyouji continued, but Fushimi's eyes fell on Yata, watching as his body swayed in time with the music. He wasn't paying any attention to the others around him, his face was glued to the screen. And the music wasn't...horrible. Fushimi was impressed Yata had actually taken the time to listen to him. The beat was slow, quiet, but there in the background, trickling into the guests ears. The synth noises were light and airy too, as though Munakata had placed a wind chime on his door. Yata was good, looked good too—better than Fushimi gave him credit for, better than Fushimi would ever give him credit for.

“Right, Fushimi-san?” Hidaka's voice cut into Fushimi's thoughts, and he quickly turned his head to stare at the boy.

“Ah?”

“I said this guy has a similar sound to the last guy,” Hidaka smiled. “Were you listening?”

“Yeah, no,” Fushimi said, walking towards the table where Munakata had set up the cocktails. Normally, Fushimi wasn't the type to partake in alcoholic beverages; he usually got drunk far too fast for his own good, and he didn't appreciate being out of control of his actions. However, Munakata's parties were something of an exception for him. Being forced to interact with these people was enough to drive him absolutely insane. They weren't terrible people, especially not compared to some of the people Fushimi had come in contact with in his life. However, human interactions had never been Fushimi's forte per-say, so, he poured himself a glass of wine.

~~

Yata hated to admit Fushimi had been right. In fact, he hoped he'd never have to admit anything of the sort to the asshole, but this garden party was much different from anything he had ever DJed before. Every time he went to crank up the beat or volume, someone would laugh, or walk by him, casually, reminding him this wasn't exactly a Friday night on the town.

Sighing, he rubbed his hands against his neck and stretched forward. He was a professional DJ. Professional, meaning he was getting paid for this job—getting paid to play music. It was something he'd been dreaming about for ages.

Yata had been a musician for as long as he could remember. He'd stolen his step-father's drumsticks, snuck into his parents back room, and slapped the sticks against the snare drums wildly. The noise had been awful, but at the time, Yata had loved it. He'd loved the way the sharp snare echoed against the wooden walls, the house shaking with each rat-tat-tat of the stick against the hollow white surface. Thankfully, when he was finally caught, his father wasn't angry, but decided to teach him instead. He'd teased Yata, claiming his chaotic noise was fun, but he thought Yata would appreciate actually playing more.

And he did. Drum lessons had quickly become his favorite part of the week. And as he grew older, he decided he never wanted to give music up.

However Yata didn't discover DJing until he chose to skip out on university, moving in with his best friend Kamamoto. Yata liked to imagine he was part of the next generation of amazing artists—just one of the amazing people who were going to captivate the world with the next great thing...if he could decide what to focus on. Until he had finally stumbled upon the world of DJing and club music.

It was hard to forget the first night Yata had seen Suoh Mikoto. Kamamoto had dragged him to the club that evening, and Yata was eternally grateful. Mikoto's hair was fire red, and his fingers seems to spew heat and rhythm as he played track after track. Each song flowed into each other, igniting Yata's internal rhythm more and more with each building piece. It was as though the world had moved in slow motion before, and Suoh Mikoto's music had sped it up. Yata's body had moved on it's own it seemed, swaying with the rhythm—the beat spreading through his veins down to his fingertips. His head had spun, though he were drunk even without touching a sip of alcohol, the beat prickling in his bloodstream.

He was entranced, and Yata could vaguely remember Kamamoto asking if he was okay, to which Yata could only respond by nodding, mouth wide as he was unable to tear his gaze away from the red-haired man. It was then Yata knew what he wanted to do—he needed to feel the same feeling again, and he wanted to share the feeling with others. Get people to dance involuntarily, make their heartbeats move in time with the rhythm of the club.

For awhile, he chose to follow Suoh Mikoto whenever he could. He followed his blog, his social media posts, and whenever Mikoto was DJing at a club, Yata would go. He wanted to learn from him, though it was next to impossible to talk to the guy, Yata thought observing him, and enjoying his music was the next best thing.

It wasn't easy, being a DJ—Yata learned that quickly. Anyone could take a song and speed it up, add some bass, and call themselves a DJ. Anyone could slap some synthetic piano over some bass lines and call themselves a DJ. But to create music and tracks like Mikoto, Yata knew you needed to know music, and have passion. Creating music like that wasn't easy to replicate.

No matter what Yata had tried, he could never evoke the feeling he had felt before. All his tracks sounded fake, processed, and awkwardly put together, as though someone had forcefully placed each sound in the backtrack, instead of letting the flow take over. Frustrated, Yata had almost given up, when he had slammed a drumstick against the snare drum on his set, hearing it echo through the room.

It took him all night to put together a song that evening, but it had been worth it. Inspired by the emotions that had thrilled him when he was a kid, and Mikoto's amazing music, Yata created a track that finally felt _real_.

After showing Kamamoto, they showed Chitose, who insisted Yata make more and start trying to play at clubs.

Playing at clubs made Yata fall in love with DJing all over again. He loved the way club goers cheered and moved in time with the music he played. He quickly discovered how the human body worked with music--the way they swayed in time with the beat and moved faster the more he upped the tempo. He was in control of how the crowd danced and moved, and it was amazing. All he wanted was to give them the night of their damn lives.

Of course, he couldn't exactly do that here at this garden party, but that didn't mean he couldn't give the party goers enjoyable music with a bit of a kick. Though it wasn't a club where the people were going to get up and dance, Yata had laced the subtle music with beats that matched the rhythm of the party, the way people walked, or casually bounced up and down with the music while they talked. A few more...eager people danced along to what Yata was playing, which made him smile. Even at a low-key party, he could get them to dance.

“Hello, Yata-san was it?” A tall, dark-haired man with glasses smiled at him, and Yata froze momentarily, pulling his focus from the music.

“Uh, yeah. Hi,” he said, surprised anyone besides Fushimi was going to talk to him.

“You're quite talented,” the man continued to smile. “Fushimi-kun has made quite the interesting friend it seems,” he chuckled.

Swallowing, Yata placed his headphones around his neck. “Are you, uh, his boss?”

“Munakata Reisi” he said. “Yes, I am Fushimi-kun's boss. It seems I made a good decision in leaving him in charge of handling the music.”

“I'm surprised,” Yata muttered, more under his breath.

“Oya? Why is that?” Munakata asked.

“Well you know, he's hated most of the stuff I've played him, even the song I made specifically for him.”

“You wrote a song for him? How very kind of you, Fushimi-kun has made quite a good friend,” Munakata hummed, looking pleased with the information he had discovered. Yata's eyes widened, and he quickly remembered Fushimi specifically asking him to not speak with his boss.

“Uh, yeah,” Yata said. “It wasn't anything...uh, s-special though,” Yata stammered, his cheeks flushing as Munakata stared at him longer.

“I see, I see,” he chuckled, a smirk on his face which made Yata extremely uneasy. “I used to have a different DJ you see, but his career is going quite well, he's too famous to do this small favor for me.”

“Y-yeah,” Yata said, glancing over the crowd for Fushimi while Munakata continued to talk about his old DJ. Idiot Fushimi had left him and hadn’t come to say anything to him all afternoon. However, if he saw Munakata talking to him, Yata was sure Fushimi would come running over to stop this very, very awkward interaction.

After scanning the crowd for what seemed like forever, Yata finally met eyes with an angry Fushimi. He blinked a few times, and glanced back towards Munakata, thankful when he noticed Fushimi walking towards them briskly.

“Ah, Fushimi-kun,” Munakata smiled. “I was hoping you would join us! Yata-kun tells me he wrote you a song. How wonderful, I didn't realize you two were so close.”

“Is that what he told you?” Fushimi growled, glaring at Yata intensely. The hand around his glass was clenching so tightly, Yata was starting to fear the cup was going to shatter in his hand.

“Yes, I would love to hear this song—”

“Sir,” Fushimi began, immediately cutting him off. “Doumyouji was about to start putting back a game you laid out on the table, you should speak to him about _that_. We all know how terrible he is at cleaning,” he hissed.

Yata noticed Munakata open his mouth as though he were about to speak, however, he smiled once again. “Alright Fushimi-kun, I will speak to Doumyouji-kun then,” he replied, shutting his eyes peacefully as he walked past both of them.

Letting out a long sigh, Yata let his shoulders slouch down, not realizing he'd been so tense around Fushimi's boss. “Creepy guy,” he muttered, watching him walk away.

“Tsk, I told you...not to talk...to him….” Fushimi hissed, dragging out every word he spoke. “Idiot. I knew he'd be like that,” Fushimi groaned, leaning forward on the table.

“Oi, don't lean on the table, you might knock the equipment over…” Yata began, watching as Fushimi clicked his tongue, pouring the rest of his drink into his mouth. “Are you drunk?” he asked.

Rolling his eyes, Fushimi jolted up off the table. “What do you think?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at Yata. “Do I look drunk?”

“Uh, kinda?” Yata said, glancing back towards his own computer, shifting the song to something slower. It didn't seem as though the party was going to last much longer, as Yata had already seen a few of Munakata's employees leave the premises. Actually, he was surprised Fushimi hadn't left yet, since he seemed to be so vehemently against the party to begin with.

Groaning, Fushimi pushed himself off of the table, leaning closer towards Yata. “You know,” he began. “I don't... _hate_ you,” he whispered.

Yata frowned. “Good to know. I mean I kinda figured you didn't hate me that much if you were hiring me for a party.”

“No. Tsk. Idiot. Shut up. You're not listening,” Fushimi continued. “I don't...hate your music...all that much,” he mumbled.

For a moment, Yata blinked, unsure of what to say. This entire time he'd been striving to show Fushimi that not all music was bad...some music was amazing, and had the ability to move people emotionally, even if the asshole seemed to be emotionally dead inside. He'd written a song for the damn guy, in hopes he would come to understand music in a different way, and stop living in silence. Yet none of Yata's attempts had seemed to work, unless apparently...they had?

"HAH!?" Yata yelled, blushing when a few people turned to stare at him. He shook his head, and turned back towards Fushimi. “You tellin' me all this time you've _liked_ what I've played for you?”

“Eh,” Fushimi shrugged.

“Eh?” Yata asked, folding his arms.

“Eh.” Fushimi repeated, laughing awkwardly. “There was one...you know...the one that...went something like…ah….uhm…" He glanced down at the cup, pursing his lips as he began to sing. “Dah...duhm...dooo...dah doo doo doo, duhm do…." he muttered, waving his finger about awkwardly in time with the beat. Fushimi was definitely...intoxicated. So much so he had actually _sang_ for Yata...and Yata honestly couldn't believe it. His face was bright red, his cheeks burning as he stared at the stupidly good-looking boy in front of him. Even drunk he looked good.

But more importantly, Fushimi didn't hate his music, Fushimi didn't hate him, and most surprising of all, Fushimi could _sing._ Extremely well. Better than Yata had ever expected, and he'd only heard him sing weird sounds. Drunken mumbling didn't exactly count, even if it did sound good.

Blinking, Yata leaned towards him. “Which one?” he asked, trying to get him to repeat it.

“Psh. What kind of DJ are you if you don't know your own songs?” Fushimi scoffed. Back to his asshole self it seemed.

The party was beginning to empty, and Munakata once again approached the two of them, handing an envelope to Yata. “Your pay for the evening,” he smiled, turning towards Fushimi, who was still leaning on the table. “Would you like to come inside, Fushimi-kun? I can make up a bed for you on the couch.” Munakata began, Fushimi pushing himself off the table slowly.

“I can take him home,” Yata blurted out, much faster than he meant to. “I-I mean, it's not a problem. Just a quick stop,” he said, shutting his laptop quickly. “That way he doesn't have to sleep on a couch,” he chuckled awkwardly, as Munakata raised an eyebrow at him.

“Alright, I'll let you...handle it then,” he smirked, placing a hand on Fushimi's shoulder. “But I won't forgive you if you lose my most important employee,” he grinned, sending another shiver down Yata's spine. It was obvious Fushimi was one of the man's favorites, and Yata got the distinct feeling he was serious when it came to his vague threats about Fushimi.

“I...can make decisions for myself...shitty boss,” Fushimi grumbled as Munakata walked away.

“Do you wanna sleep on his couch?” Yata asked, and Fushimi rolled his eyes.

“No.”

“Then let's get you home,” Yata sighed, tucking his laptop into his bag.

~~

Fushimi was drunk. His head was pounding, and his body felt light and wobbly. He had meant to drink a little bit to loosen himself up, however, he had taken it a bit farther than that. And now he sat next to Yata Misaki in his car.

It was a run down, red car which looked as though he'd driven it through a dust storm. It smelled like him too—sweat, mixed with a home-cooked meals littered with vegetables, but in his current state, Fushimi didn't have much to say about it. Or perhaps he was so intoxicated the smell permeated his nose more intensely and stayed trapped in his brain, making him forget what he would want to say in the first place.

Yata was uncharacteristically silent as he started the car, and Fushimi wondered if he was angry about driving him home, even though he'd offered. Yata Misaki. An idiot. Decently talented, but mostly an idiot. Also decently attractive. Fushimi had to admit, he'd thought about kissing Yata just to shut him up once or twice.

“Why didn't you tell me you could sing?” Yata asked, glancing at Fushimi. Is that what his silence was about? The random two bars of music he had awkwardly stumbled over singing at the party?

“Because I don’t,” Fushimi scoffed.

“Shut up, you're so good,” Yata snapped. “That's an honest compliment.”

Sighing, Fushimi dropped his head onto his palm, watching the evening sky pass by outside. “I never said I can't, I just said I don’t.”

“Why not?”

“I don't like singing,” Fushimi said. “Simple as that.” He didn't need to tell Yata he associated singing with his father—the man who had sang strange songs with his name just to make fun of him, the same man who had sung for Fushimi to come out from his hiding places.

_“Sa~ru~hi~ko~”_

He shuddered just thinking about it.

Pulling in front of his apartment complex, Fushimi stumbled out of Yata's car. “Thanks,” he mumbled, but Yata was quick to step out too.

“Oi. You really think I'm going to let you walk up there by yourself like this?” Yata grunted, stepping around to his side.

“Eh? Are you inviting yourself inside? How forward of you, Yata,” Fushimi teased, walking a bit ahead of him, as the comment clearly took the DJ off guard.

“W-What are you saying asshole?!” Yata yelled, lunging forward. “I'm just walkin' you up!” he growled, catching up to Fushimi.

“What are you some kind of virgin?” Fushimi teased. “Your face is bright red and you sounded so ner~vous~” he hummed.

“I'm not a friggin' virgin,” Yata grumbled, and wrapped his arm around Fushimi wrist, trying to steady him as they entered the building. “What floor are you on?”

“Four,” Fushimi smirked, leaning towards Yata. “So...you wouldn't be upset if I kissed you then?” he grinned, his lips curling up devilishly.

Grunting, Fushimi was pleased to see Yata's face stay bright red. “W-What the hell are you wanting to do that for, j-jerk,” he stammered. “You're drunk, stop acting weird.”

The elevator door opened and Fushimi pulled Yata inside, leaning close to him. His hand was sweaty against the smooth skin of Yata's wrist, and even in his drunk state, he could see Yata's lips were slightly parted, air slipping through them in small huffs. “You say to stop acting weird, and yet you're not fighting me,” he grinned. “If I didn't know any better I'd say you want to kiss me,” Fushimi shrugged.

Fushimi liked the way Yata looked, the way his cheeks were flushed and his eyes wide, blinking way too fast. It was cute—disgustingly cute, and Fushimi wanted to hate it, but it only made him want to kiss him more. Running his hand through his hair, Fushimi leaned against the back of the elevator as it began to move. “Though I guess a virgin like you would be too scared to do something like that,” he sighed, swaying his head back and forth.

It seemed that was all Yata needed to be spurred on. Yanking on Fushimi's collar, he pulled their lips together. Fushimi stared, processing what had happened. Of course, he had wanted to do it, but Yata had shockingly made the first move. Yata’s eyes were squeezed shut and his lips trembled against Fushimi's, but the taller closed his eyes anyway, letting Yata's lips envelop his own, his lower lip smoothly brushing over Fushimi's.

“I-I...I'm not a virgin…” Yata panted, his fists clenched around Fushimi's shirt.

“I'm so surprised you actually did it,” Fushimi hummed, chuckling as he wrapped a hand around Yata's wrist. Under his fingertips, he could feel Yata's pulse racing. “You seem so…nervous.”

“I'm not nervous!” he yelled, pressing his lips to Fushimi's once more.

“So…loud,” Fushimi muttered, speaking between breaths. Yata pressed against him, pushing his back against the elevator wall, attacking his lips with ferocity. His teeth nibbled on Fushimi's lower lip, and Fushimi hated himself for letting out a soft, rather squeaky moan, as his voice got caught in his throat. “Eager,” he panted, staring at Yata's fiery hazel eyes.

“Y-You're one to talk,” Yata muttered. “I'm not the one letting out weird noises!” Though Fushimi knew Yata was affected. His chest was heaving, and his lips were red and swollen. Even if he wasn't a virgin, Fushimi could tell Yata didn't do things like this often. Seeing Yata in front of him like that was so pleasing—Fushimi wanted more.

The elevator bell rang, and Fushimi stumbled out, giving Yata no time to think as he grabbed his wrist and yanked him down the hallway, fumbling to get his keys out once they were in front of his door.

“Gimme those,” Yata mumbled, taking the shaking keys from Fushimi's hand.

Snorting, Fushimi clicked his tongue loudly. “You're a lot more excited than I expected.”

“Shut it!” Yata snapped, pushing the door open. He placed the keys down on the table next to the door, and shoved Fushimi against said door once they were both inside. Fushimi groaned, feeling his back press against the wall and Yata's lips caressed at his neck. His blood was boiling, and he wanted to beg Yata for more, probably due to the alcohol he was battling in his system. Instead of saying anything, Fushimi let his head drop back against the door, his mouth wide.

With each kiss, Yata's lips tickled his skin, his lips, his jaw...Fushimi's hands wrapped around Yata's waist, and pulled him closer, their bodies pressing together. He wanted more—anything to feel Yata closer to him. Their hips rolled together, and their hot breaths filled the air, fogging up Fushimi's glasses.

“B-Bed…" he mumbled, finally finding his voice after what seemed like forever, the ceiling spinning above him, lost in Yata's kisses on his skin.

“Y-Yeah…okay,” Yata panted, and stumbled backwards.

“You're acting more drunk than I am,” Fushimi teased, pulling Yata to his bedroom, where he flopped back on the bed, waiting for Yata to follow. He laid back, his head hitting his pillow with a soft noise. His eyes fluttered shut, and he let out a long sigh.

“This is your fault you know,” Yata hissed, climbing over him.

“Just kiss me,” Fushimi said, his eyes shooting open to stare up at Yata's thin form above him.

It felt incredible. Between the way the room was spinning slightly, and the way Yata touched every part of him, removing both of their clothes with minor difficulties, Fushimi was gone. It had been so long since he'd been intimate, and the way their hips moved together, their hot, sticky skin touching was enough to make Fushimi moan, noises slipping from his lips into both Yata's mouth and the air.

And Yata's hands were all over his body. Fushimi had stared at his hands before. The way he used them on stage, fingers curling around the various knobs and buttons. Or how his fingertips brushed over the keys on his laptop, his hands moving about quickly. Now those hands belonged to Fushimi. Yata’s fingertips brushed over his chest and pressed against Fushimi’s most sensitive areas. His legs were open as he felt Yata's hot lips suck on his neck and spread him wide.

When they finally connected, Yata pressing inside of him completely, Fushimi gasped, moaning as he locked his arms lazily around Yata's neck. His head stayed pressed against the pillow, sweat dripping down his neck, as his dark hair splayed out against the white sheets. His body moved with Yata, a pulsing beat both of them could feel, their hearts pounding in their chests. Their breaths and moans filled the room, coming together in the air, the pitch changing depending on Yata's tempo. Fushimi was dizzy, and his vision was cloudy.

It had been so long since Fushimi had actually let go, and let himself feel so damn good. Yata was over him, in him, touching him, kissing him—and Fushimi didn't want him to stop. Even as they both finished, and Yata laid next to him, eyelids heavy, Fushimi felt he could've listened to Yata all night long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhh this is one of my favorite chapters tbh. I've been looking forward to this one for a bit. The party idea was one of the original ideas that sparked this fic, so I hope people enjoy it and don't find it weird or rushed haha. Please enjoy :) Thank you to xladysaya for beta-ing :) <33 Thank you to everyone who reads and comments on this fic so much, it really helps me <3


	6. Chapter 6

When his eyes opened, Fushimi immediately wished to close them. The light hurt his pupils, and his head was throbbing, pounding against his skull. He supposed this is what he deserved, for drinking so much last night.

It was mostly a blur, the party, Doumyouji causing a scene, Munakata being odd and smiley, as per normal, and Yata...

He paused, running through the events in his head as he tried to remember what exactly happened. He remembered speaking to Yata, and then Munakata had also spoken to Yata, which quite frankly had terrified him, and then he recalled Yata walking him to his car, and standing in the elevator with him...oh no.

Oh no. _Oh no._

He shot up, eyes opening as he immediately came face to face with a wide awake Yata, sitting casually on Fushimi's bed, shirtless, typing on his laptop.

“Oh! You're awake! I, uh, would've made breakfast but...uh...I didn't wanna go through your kitchen…”

Fushimi groaned, and buried his face against the pillow. Fuck. Maybe if he stayed face down he'd suffocate and all this would be behind him. He'd never have to deal with Yata, his co-workers, or anyone again. Or, at the very least, maybe Yata would go away.

“Oi, Fushimi, are you hungover?” Yata asked.

Slowly turning his head, Fushimi groaned again. “We slept together.” It was a statement, rather than a question—more a confirmation of what exactly had happened.

Yata's face turned bright red. “Well, yeah…” He chuckled, and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Right,” Fushimi muttered, and pressed his face back to the pillow. Admittedly, forgetting about how annoying he was, Yata was pretty cute, and Fushimi could recall feeling good while they had sex. But he didn't want to give the idiot any more reasons to talk to him. Even if he had enjoyed it.

“O-Oi! You seemed to enjoy it last night.” Yata said.

Frowning, Fushimi turned his head staring at the other. “I'm sure I did…”

“Do you regret it?” Yata asked, looking a bit hurt. Fushimi hated that look, as though he had let down the world’s happiest puppy.

“Well, we had drunken sex. I only half remember, what do you think?”

Pouting, Yata ran a hand through his hair. “Fuck, if I had known you didn't really want to, I wouldn't have done it…” he muttered awkwardly. “You...seemed really into it last night. It was…cute.” Yata turned his head away, his cheeks flushed.

Fushimi sighed. He hadn't meant to make the DJ upset. From what he could remember, in the moment, he had really wanted it. “No…ugh…no.” He scoffed. He hadn't slept with anyone for years, just for this reason. “It was...it was what I wanted. Yeah, I was drunk, but I think you're...attractive too, and I wanted you...last night.” The words he heard his own voice speak were painful, stabbing his ears the longer he dragged it out.

Yata quickly turned his head, smiling. “Eh?! Really!?” he yelled, and Fushimi immediately covered Yata's mouth. He was always so damn loud.

“Shh. Why are you always screaming? My head is going to fall off.”

Eyes widening, Yata blinked and pulled Fushimi's hand from his mouth. “Let me cook you breakfast. Trust me, I know the best hangover meal.”

“I don't have a lot of food—”

“That's fine, I'll figure it out,” he smiled, and swung his legs over the bed, hopping up. Fushimi watched him head to the kitchen. The sounds of fumbling through pots and cabinets echoed throughout the apartment, followed by a large grunt, and Yata reappeared in front of Fushimi's bedroom door. “Okay you weren't kidding when you said you had no food. What the hell do you eat?”

Fushimi only shrugged—microwaveable meals, rice, cup ramen...he didn't care about cooking. He often stayed late at work, and ate something fast before he attempted to sleep.

“I'll just run down to the market on the corner. I'll buzz to come in!”

“Yata, you don't have to—”

“Shut up, Fushimi, I want to.” And he dashed towards the door. Fushimi shook his head. What the hell did Yata think he was doing? They had slept together, but that didn't exactly mean anything to Fushimi. In fact, it was the opposite. He would've much preferred if Yata left and never came back. For a brief moment, Fushimi wondered if Yata would actually come back, though Fushimi only had a few minutes of silence before the door buzzer sounded, Yata wanting back in.

“Eggs,” Yata said, holding them up with a smile. “Eggs are a really good cure for hangovers. Trust me, I know.”

“Oh, I doubt you're a stranger to hangovers after your oh-so-pleasant message you left me the other evening,” Fushimi smirked, taking a seat at the table. “Just don't put vegetables in my omelette,” he said, gesturing to a few of the items Yata had collected from the store.

“What!?” Yata yelled. “But that makes the meal!”

“Makes it gross.”

“Really?” Fushimi didn't answer, but kept his face deadpanned as he stared at Yata. “Alright, fine,” the shorter rolled his eyes and made his way to the stove, pulling out some of the pans he had found earlier.

Fushimi watched Yata's back as he moved about the kitchen. He had started humming, and it looked as though he were DJing with the food he was making, lost in his own little world, not giving Fushimi any sort of attention. He was so precise, mixing the eggs up, pouring them onto the sizzling pan, gently pushing them around with the spatula. It had been so long since Fushimi had ever even used those pots, so he was a little happy they were actually getting some use.

And then as he watched him, he was hit with a revelation. Yata hadn't been drinking last night...or at least, Fushimi didn't think he had been, so did that mean he had slept with him completely sober? Had Yata slept with him because he actually liked him?

Swallowing, Fushimi rested his head on his hand, trying to nurse his headache. “Oi,” he called quietly, causing Yata to freeze in place. “Were you drinking last night?”

For a moment, all Fushimi could hear was the gentle crackle of the eggs on the frying pan. “Me?” Yata spoke finally.

“No the other person standing in my kitchen,” Fushimi scoffed, clicking his tongue. “Of course I mean you.”

“Right. Uh...No...I wasn’t,” he muttered. Fushimi peered through one eye, tilting his head to the side. Yata's back was still facing him, and he seemed to be doing everything in his power to not look away from the cooking food in front of him.

“So you were completely sober?” Fushimi repeated.

“Yeah, what about it?!” Yata snapped. Fushimi rolled his eyes. He had already confessed, embarrassingly so, earlier that morning that he liked Yata, and found him attractive, so why was it suddenly such a sore spot for the loudmouth who often wore his heart on his sleeve.

“Interesting,” he hummed, watching as Yata folded over the omelette, and put it on a plate, resting it down in front of Fushimi. There was also a small bowl of rice, which Fushimi hadn't even noticed he'd been cooking.

“What's interesting about it?” he asked, sitting across from him with his own food. “You're an attractive guy...and even though you're a pain in my ass…I…” Yata paused, pushing some rice around with his chopsticks. His face was flushed, and he looked shy, as though the words he were about to say had gotten trapped in his throat.

“You?”

“I don't know, you were sexy last night okay?! You got all in my face, and I felt challenged and...yeah...I dunno I went for it!” he said, stabbing at the egg while shoving some into his mouth, in hopes he wouldn't have to talk about it anymore.

“Well don't expect it to happen again. It was a one time deal,” he said. “I'm not interested in you like that.” Fushimi almost wished he hadn't said that, especially seeing the sad look on Yata's face. It wasn't very obvious, but Fushimi had noticed the way his chewing had slowed and his lips had curled downwards ever so slightly. Had Yata really wanted to sleep with him again? Maybe the sex had been really good...either way Fushimi didn't _do_ relationships, especially not with loud, pushy guys like Yata.

“Y-Yeah, well, I'm not interested in you like that either,” he stammered, a poor excuse for a lie. “I would never want to date someone who hated music as much as you,” he grumbled.

“Right,” Fushimi sighed, and finally took his first bite of Yata's omelette. It was surprisingly good, for someone who Fushimi had expected to not have any sort of skills besides music. “This...is pretty good,” he mumbled.

“Yeah! I cook for me and Kamamoto all the time, and trust me, when you live with him, you gotta learn to cook well, and...a lot,” he snorted, shoveling more rice into his mouth.

“Hm. It's surprising. I thought all you cared about was music,” he teased, glad to have steered the conversation in a different direction. Shockingly, he really didn't hate Yata, and eating breakfast like this was actually kind of...nice. The food was warm, and tasted far better than the meals he usually heated up for himself, but he had already gotten far too involved with Yata, more than he had meant to.

“I do like other things! I'm a normal person, something you would probably know nothing about,” Yata scoffed, wiping his lips with a napkin.

“You could've fooled me,” Fushimi said, taking far smaller bites than Yata. Though, the food was making his stomach feel better.

“Yeah, yeah...but Fushimi…” Yata began and slowly placed his chopsticks down. He stared at Fushimi's face so intensely, Fushimi wanted nothing more than to look away. It was unsettling.

“What?” he said, staring back at him uncomfortably.

“Why the hell didn't you tell me you could sing?!” he yelled, and Fushimi immediately regretted changing the subject to music. His face paled as he tried to remember how Yata could've ever heard him sing. Why the hell had he drank so much the night before?! He couldn't keep his thoughts straight, and the night was still as blurred up as it was when he had awoken next to Yata.

“I...I can't sing,” he tried, and even he was ashamed by how pathetic the attempt to lie was.

“Yes, you can!” Yata said. “Fuck, if I had known you could sing, I would have gotten you to sing for me way sooner!”

“I can't. I have no idea what you mean. And there's no way in hell I would ever, ever sing for you,” Fushimi scoffed.

“Okay, Fushimi, I know you were drunk as all hell, but you can't tell me you don't know that you can sing?!” he said.

“I don't sing,” Fushimi scoffed and clicked his tongue loudly again.

“Okay. But you _can_ ,” Yata argued. “You sang for me last night. You even admitted to not hating my music.”

Why, oh why had he drank last night? And why the hell had Yata been sober? This would've been a helluva lot easier if Yata had been the drunk one, and Fushimi had been sober. Sighing, Fushimi placed his chopsticks down. “Alright. Your music really isn't the most offensive thing to my ears, this is true...but I don't enjoy singing...and whatever I did last night, you shouldn't have heard it, so forget you ever did.”

“....forget I ever did? How could I forget!? I mean all you did was sing at me with a few 'doos' and 'das' but I mean...I could tell, you know? You have a good voice!”

“Okay? I have a good voice,” Fushimi shrugged. “I don't plan on being a singer or anything like that, so don't even think about it.” But from the look on Yata's face, Fushimi could tell he was already lost to his own thoughts.

“Shit...with your voice, I could have an amazing track for the Fall Festival! We could perform it live—”

“Yata,” Fushimi sighed, hating when he got like this.

“And it would be an automatic hit, I mean I can just tell you'd suit it so well! So we'd have to start touring!”

“Yata, you're not listening to me.”

“And maybe we'd even get to do shit with Mikoto-san! Oh fuck, that would be so cool!”

“Yata!” Fushimi yelled, finally breaking the eager DJ from his thoughts.

“What?!” he said, staring at him, as though he were confused as to why Fushimi wasn't getting as excited as he was.

“I'm not singing for you. I'm not singing for anyone,” he stated flatly.

“But—”

“No 'buts'. I'm not singing, that's my final decision.”

“Why not?! We could make an amazing song! You could be famous! _We_ could be famous!” Yata exclaimed, the dishes shaking against the table as he hit his hands on the side.

“I don't want to be famous,” Fushimi snarled. “I like my life...or well, I tolerate it. It's easy, it's simple, and no one bothers me. At least no one did until you came along. I don't want to put my voice on some track you plan on playing for thousands of people.”

“But you're an amazing singer!” Yata retorted. “Don't you want to share your talent with people?!”

“No,” Fushimi said, flatly. “I don't care if anyone hears me sing. I don't like it.”

Yata folded his arms indignantly. “You're so damn stubborn!”

“Says you. You only want to use my voice anyway. It's got nothing to do with me, and I don't want anything to do with it,” Fushimi snapped.

Yata let out a large huff of air, shoving the rest of the food on his plate into his mouth. Fushimi could tell the DJ was annoyed, but it didn't really matter to him. He wanted nothing to do with singing, or the world Yata was involved in. Yata groaned, standing up in frustration as he carried the dirty, empty plates over to the sink. He began to run the water, cleaning them. “Something tells me you'll never clean these if I don't do this,” he mumbled, clearly disappointed.

There was something about the look on Yata's face when he was disappointed that made Fushimi's heart clench in his chest. Normally he didn't care about upsetting people. Fushimi had gone through enough shit in his life that he didn't feel he needed to put up with anyone else's...however Yata was so damn eager, it always made him feel a twinge of guilt. He pursed his lips and let out a sigh, if he continued to reject Yata, perhaps the DJ would finally realize Fushimi simply wanted to be left alone. It was easier that way; all wanted was to return to the way his life was before Yata had arrived.

Lately it had been one thing after another, Yata somehow convincing him to spend far more time with him than Fushimi had ever wanted to. It all started with his damn broken laptop. It was supposed to be done after Fushimi had finished repairing it. And yet, here they were, sharing an awkward ‘morning after’ moment, and Yata begging him to sing in a song.

“Okay,” Yata grunted, breaking the silence. “C'mon, just...you don't even have to put your name on it...or...I dunno, I won't tell anyone it was you!” he said. “Seriously, I think it could be so freaking amazing.”

“Stop. Yata, I wasn't kidding, I'm not changing my mind on this. The pots are clean enough, you better go. I have work to finish.” Knowing Yata's pushy track record, Fushimi could only imagine he was never going to give this up. He couldn't listen to him beg and plead to be in his song all day.

“But it's a Sunday, we could—”

“I'm busy,” Fushimi snapped, standing up in hopes he could urge Yata out the door. The longer he looked at Yata with his disappointed face, the more likely Fushimi would be to cave.

“What the hell is your problem?! Would it really kill you to enjoy a day off with a friend?” Yata snapped.

“I never said we were friends,” he grumbled, clicking his tongue. He felt a little guilty saying that, he only wanted Yata to get out of his apartment, and since nothing was getting through to him…

“Right, of course. How could I be so stupid?!” Placing the sponge down in the sink angrily, Yata made his way to the counter and grabbed his keys, shoving them into his pocket. His brow was furrowed, his nostrils flaring angrily. “Fine. I'll go!” he snapped. “Since all you care about is being alone. I hope you fucking enjoy your silence,” he snarled, yanking the door open and slamming it behind him.

Fushimi stared at the door, wishing he hadn't said something so harsh. He sighed, letting the silence of the room settle in his ears, after the echo of the door slamming faded away.

 ~~

Yata slammed the door to his car as he stepped out of it. Stupid Fushimi! Right when he had thought they were making progress and actually becoming friends, Fushimi had to go and say shit like ‘ _I never said we were friends’._ Neither of them had said it, no. But since when did you have to declare friendship with someone? Fushimi had called him to help with his boss' party, so Yata had assumed Fushimi didn't completely hate him.

And then Fushimi got drunk and admitted to actually enjoying Yata's music and him, so, what the hell was Yata supposed to think exactly?! He was fuming—face red, his palms clenched around his keys as he swung the front door open to the house, storming up the flights of stairs to his and Kamamoto's apartment.

He yanked the door opened and slammed it behind him, throwing his keys on the small table next to the door.

“Yata-san! There you are! Where have you been?” Kamamoto asked, stepping out of his room the second Yata had opened the door.

“Not now, Kamamoto,” he growled, storming to his studio, shutting the door behind him. Normally he would've talked it out with Kamamoto, but he was too angry to even think about talking. He leaned against the door and sighed, running his hand down his face. What the hell had he been thinking, sleeping with Fushimi like that? He'd been attracted to the asshole for awhile now, and gosh, the sex had been good, even with Fushimi drunk like that. He knew he shouldn't have caved to Fushimi's drunken challenging, but dammit he had looked so...freaking...cute, Yata had found it impossible to resist his lips, especially when they had curled into his cocky ass smile.

Thinking about it now made Yata shiver for a second—the way Fushimi's hands had been all over his body, the way his head had tilted back, mouth open, body shaking in pleasure. Yata could feel his face flushing just remembering it. He shook his head, not wanting to remember it anymore, Fushimi had already made his feelings quite clear.

The worst part was, Yata had thought maybe he was starting to actually _like_ Fushimi. Attraction was one thing, but actually having some sort of feelings for him, was another. He sighed, flopping into his chair, tilting up the screen to his laptop. He'd just have to move on somehow. Somehow...

His other problem was Fushimi's damn voice. It didn't take a music prodigy to know the idiot had a great one. Even from the brief singing he had done, Yata could tell. Yata knew Fushimi would be the perfect singer, something he had been missing from his songs for quite sometime.

At first, he'd tried using Kamamoto, but even with autotune, Kamamoto's voice didn't really resonate with the songs Yata had created. Then he had tried Chitose and Dewa on a duet, but Chitose had overpowered Dewa, and neither of them were really singers. They had sounded decent, but definitely not the sound Yata had been looking for. He'd even tried singing his own stuff once, but that had been cringe worthy. Thankfully, not all dance music needed singing, and Yata did enjoy remixing preexisting songs, but when it came to his own stuff, he'd learned to work around not having vocals.

It was a bit disappointing not having a vocalist, however. A lot of music he admired had amazing vocalists. Mikoto-san, for instance, used a man named Totsuka Tatara for most of his songs with vocals. The guy was an incredible singer, and Mikoto utilized him when he had to. Apparently they often performed live together, though Yata hadn't had the opportunity to see them.

Other DJs, like Nagare, used a lot of different vocalists, but his work was heavily electronic and most of the vocals were distorted anyway.

If Yata could have something like Mikoto, one vocalist he could use when he wanted words to be involved, he would've been golden. Fushimi's tone and voice could have been exactly what he had been looking for.

But Fushimi—stubborn idiot, complete asshole, who _somehow_ had the voice of a fucking angel, would never agree to freaking sing for him. Burying his face in his hands, Yata groaned. If only Fushimi hadn't ever sang anything for him, then he could've stayed blissfully unaware of how good his voice was. Admittedly, Yata was being selfish. He wanted to use Fushimi's voice to better his music, though he did think it would be good for Fushimi to put himself out there and try new things, since the idiot seemed to be holed up in his room all the damn time. That was certainly something Yata didn't understand at all. How did he not get bored?!

Yata put on his headphones, opening a new file on his mixing program, hoping to stop thinking about it. Fushimi had said no, and it had been a strong no. Not a no Yata could easily sway. But, maybe he could tempt Fushimi? If he wrote a song Fushimi found pleasing, maybe he would change his mind. Tapping his hands against the keyboard, Yata bit down on his lip. He knew it was a dumb idea. Fushimi had barely admitted to liking some of the things Yata had shown him, and he had been drunk when he had done so. There was no way he'd ever admit to liking a song Yata wanted him to sing.

What did Fushimi have against singing anyway? He hadn't given a reason, but when Yata had brought it up, he seemed curt, and quick to avoid the subject. Though Fushimi hadn't really been forthcoming about anything involving himself.

Yata dropped a few bass lines into the track, playing with tempos as he kept the headphones around his ears, letting himself get lost in the sounds pounding in his head. He struggled through the bass line, trying to get the beat just right. If Fushimi was going to sing, Yata wanted it to be a moderate tempo, something he could keep up with it, but not so slow that Fushimi's personality would show through the song. A slower song would probably highlight his...melancholy attitude, and there was no way Fushimi would ever agree to a faster song.

He started trying out different synthesizers, but quickly jolted out of it when he heard a bang on the door. He wasn't sure how long he had been in his studio when Kamamoto knocked, but glancing at the clock, he realized it had to have been a few hours.

“Yeah?” he called out, and Kamamoto opened the door slowly, peering through the crack in the doorway. Kamamoto had learned quickly when Yata wanted to be left alone, it was best to listen, not wanting to get involved with him when his temper flared up badly.

He cleared his throat. “Hey...Yata-san...are you hungry? It's almost lunchtime.”

Glancing at the clock, Yata's eyes widened, realizing that he had, in fact, been mixing for longer than he had expected. “Shit...it is. Uh, yeah. I'll come out in a minute,” he said.

“Okay, I'll make you a sandwich too then,” Kamamoto said softly, shutting the door. Yata wasn't too far behind him. He saved his project, and grabbed his sweater, heading to the kitchen where Kamamoto had placed a sandwich in front of Yata's chair. In front of his own, there were two larger sandwiches, lettuce practically falling out of the sides.

Tucking his hands into his pant pockets, Yata pulled out his chair and sat down. “Thanks man. Sorry, uh...about this morning,” he sighed, taking a large gulp from the water in his cup.

“It's no problem,” Kamamoto said, sitting down. “I know you get angry about shit a lot and I know when to avoid ya’,” he snorted. “But what the hell happened to ya’?” he said. “You didn't come home last night.”

“Yeah...uh...I kind of slept with Fushimi?” he said slowly.

Kamamoto's eyes widened as he swallowed the large bite of his lettuce. “Eh!? Like... _slept with_?!”

“Yeah...we uh...we did it. He was drunk and he kind of challenged me and I just…yeah…” Yata admitted, blushing hard. Kamamoto hadn't exactly been fond of Fushimi, mostly because so far Fushimi had been nothing but an asshole, and minus his good looks, there weren't many redeeming qualities about the guy. “I made us breakfast, but uh...he pretty much kicked me out.”

“What!? Why?” Kamamoto asked, mouth still half full. He leaned forward to drink some water, swallowing down the large bite.

“Ah...I dunno. He's an asshole?” Yata growled and yanked his beanie off, scratching his hair. “No...I dunno...he sang for me while drunk, and he's got a damn good voice. So I tried to get him to sing for me. He didn't like that, and kicked me out. After I made him breakfast and everything! The fucking asshole!” He slammed his hands down against the table, causing Kamamoto to hold on to his glass.

“So, I take it he's not going to sing for you?” Kamamoto asked, blinking a few times.

“He said no, but I'm working on a song right now that's going to convince him!” Yata cheered with a large smile.

Kamamoto raised an eyebrow. “Yata…”

“No! I know what you're thinking, but I'm tellin' ya'. He's just being a stubborn asshole!” Yata smirked, looking surprisingly determined for how angry he had been moments before.

“It sounds like you’re both being stubborn assholes…” Kamamoto said quietly.

“Okay,” Yata began, ignoring Kamamoto's comment. “He already drunkenly admitted to liking what I had played for him, so if I could just come up with a song he can admit to liking sober, I bet I can convince him to do it,” he said, shoving a large bite of the sandwich into his mouth.

“If you say so, Yata-san. I don't want you to be disappointed if it doesn't work.”

“Are you kidding me?” Yata said, his energy and excitement returning. “Of course it's going to work!” It just had to, Yata was sure, when it came down to it, Fushimi wouldn't let him down.

~~

Fushimi hated Mondays. Going into work, knowing he had the rest of the work week to survive through, wasn't something he enjoyed. And this particular Monday, he was dreading even more, since Munakata, as well as some of his other co-workers, were well aware Fushimi had gone home with the DJ after their party had ended.

The questions were going to come, and if they didn't, he'd receive a few questioning stares. There was a part of him that almost wanted to stand on his chair, announce he had slept with Yata, and tell them all to move on, but he knew that was a plan that wouldn't exactly work, no matter how much he wanted it to.

Yesterday, after Yata had left, Fushimi simply wanted to put the whole ordeal behind him. It was over. For real this time. Yata had no other reason to contact him, and Fushimi had no other reason to contact Yata.

Fushimi arrived to work early, as he always did. It was much easier to avoid the others and their questioning stares if he looked as though he was already working. Of course, it didn't completely eradicate the problem, but it had saved him in the past, especially from Doumyouji. It never stopped Munakata though, his boss interrupted him whenever he damn felt like it.

And of course, Munakata immediately approached Fushimi upon arriving at the office that morning.

“Good morning, Fushimi-kun!” he smiled, peering over the edge of the cubicle.

“Sir,” he muttered, clicking his tongue as he kept his gaze fixated on the screen in front of him.

“I am happy to see you are here and well this morning,” he grinned.

“Where else would I be?” Fushimi scoffed, not wanting to humor Munakata this early.

“I don't know. You were rather intoxicated, I'm happy to see your DJ friend helped you get home safe,” he said with a gentle hum.

“Yup,” he replied, flicking his eyes up, to peer over his glasses for a moment.

“Did you have a good evening with him?” Munakata asked, and Fushimi clicked his tongue again. It could never be a simple good morning with the man.

“Fine.”

“I see! Better than expected.” Fushimi wasn't sure how Munakata had gathered it had gone 'better than expected', however he wasn't about to question the man, especially not when he could see Doumyouji and Hidaka leaning back in their seats, as though they would catch a bit of gossip.

“Sure,” Fushimi said. “It's all over now. So I can finally focus on work,” he sighed.

“Over now? Oya! I didn't realize there was something to be over between you two,” Munakata exclaimed, looking distraught, though Fushimi couldn't tell if the emotion was genuine or not.

“No, I mean we have no reason to talk to each other anymore,” Fushimi said, hoping this would be the end of it.

“Do you need a reason to be friends with him?” Munakata asked, and Fushimi finally turned to look at him.

“Do I need a reason to not be friends with him?” Fushimi snapped.

“I suppose you do not,” Munakata said, a gentle sigh escaping his lips. If it was meant to be subtle, he had failed, as Fushimi had heard the noise as clear as day. He rolled his eyes and returned to the computer. “There's nothing wrong with having people close to us in our lives, Fushimi-kun,” he said softly, and walked away. Fushimi was surprised Munakata had given up so fast, though the way he spoke made Fushimi think his boss was actually a bit disappointed in him for giving up on Yata so quickly. Fushimi placed his hands back on the keyboard, returning his attention to work—Fushimi didn't have time to care.

His gaze flicked to his phone besides his desk. Actually, he was surprised Yata hadn't tried to contact him by now. Though Fushimi hadn't exactly been nice when he kicked him out. Maybe the DJ was finally done with him, just as Fushimi had always wanted.

However, Fushimi was sadly mistaken.

That afternoon it started; his phone lit up brightly with a text from Yata.

**[Text: Yata Misaki]** : Okay I know you said no but...

Fushimi didn't need to read the rest of the message to know what the text said. Yata wanted him to sing for him. Still. Fushimi ignored it.

But ignoring didn't stop Yata. He texted again two more times that evening.

On Tuesday and Wednesday, he sent more text messages, and even called, leaving Fushimi rather obnoxious voicemails, begging him to at least try and listen to what he had come up with. Apparently Yata had written some masterpiece song that only Fushimi could sing, and he'd written it with Fushimi in mind, and it was supposedly perfect for Fushimi. That only made Fushimi want to avoid him more.

Thursday, his phone lit up again, and he groaned loudly, slamming his finger down on the ignore button. How had Yata not gotten the hint yet? He'd ignored all his calls, and he'd been so damn mean to him when he kicked him out of the apartment. How did the idiot not get it by now?! Fushimi had his fists clenched on the desk, and his chest was heaving with his angry breaths.

“Fushimi-kun? Is something the matter? You're disturbing your co-workers with how angry you've been the past few days,” Munakata's voice cut through Fushimi's inner monologue, and he whipped his head around to stare at his boss.

“I'm. Fine.”

“Oya? You look quite distressed,” Munakata said. “Come, let's take a walk, I think it best for you to cool down.”

Glaring at his phone, Fushimi sighed, standing up to follow Munakata down the hall. He wasn't going to let it go, so it was best to go for the damn walk and get it over with.

“What seems to be the problem?” Munakata asked, clasping his hands behind his back.

“That DJ wants me to sing for him.” Fushimi grit his teeth, knowing what question came next.

“So you're a good singer then? I had no idea!” Munakata chuckled, and Fushimi wasn't sure if he believed him or not.

“I don't like it, and I don't want to. I already told him I had no interest in being friends. He's persistent as hell,” Fushimi grunted. As much as he didn't want to tell Munakata about his life, it felt good to get it off of his chest. He'd been holding in the anger for days...

“Ah. Why did you do that? The two of you seemed to get on quite nicely at the party,” Munakata pointed out.

“I was drunk.”

“They say alcohol makes you more honest,” he smiled.

Fushimi rolled his eyes. Of course Munakata would say some bullshit like that. He rubbed his forehead.

“Sometimes,” Munakata began. “We grow angry at ourselves when we push the people we care about away. And sometimes that anger manifests itself in strange ways, or we project it on to something else.”

“I'm not…I don't...care about him,” Fushimi grumbled. “If he left me alone, I'd be so happy.” Pursing his lips he wasn't sure if he was telling the truth or not. On Monday, before all the texting had begun, Fushimi had been surprised he hadn't heard from Yata, and there was the tiniest part of him which wondered when, or what, Yata was going to do to try and convince him, each morning he had woken up.

“Is that so?” Munakata hummed. “You'd feel better if he left you alone for good?”

Fushimi glanced down at his phone once again, the screen black and empty. “…Yes…” he whispered softly. “Now if you'll excuse me, I think I've calmed down plenty.” In reality, he just knew he couldn't listen to Munakata be right anymore.

~~

Yata was tired of Fushimi. Or he should've been, but he couldn't seem to let it go. He could never seem to let it go with Fushimi. Much to his dismay, and his friends'. They'd all tried to convince him to stop, especially Kamamoto, but there was something which made Yata keep going. He always had the distinct feeling Fushimi was being a shit not because he actually wanted to be, but because he felt he had to be.

It was probably delusional. And on Friday...as Yata stared at his empty phone, no texts, or calls from Fushimi, he thought it was _definitely_ delusional.

“Dammit,” he growled, rolling over in his bed as he stared at the screen. Fushimi's name was pulled up and his finger hovered over the call button, but instead he dropped it to the bed. “Asshole,” he muttered, curling onto his side as he pulled the blanket over his head.

How could he convince Fushimi if he wouldn't even listen to the song? It was all that stupid party's fault. Fushimi had invited him to DJ it, and from the way Fushimi had spoke when he was drunk, Yata had gained a bit of hope about their friendship. If only the asshole hadn't done those things. And of course their drunken hookup hadn't done any favors to help Fushimi. Really Yata was just confused.

Why the hell was the asshole pushing him away so much? Was it really that difficult to be friends with him? Maybe he wouldn't do the song, but at least they could be friends, especially after everything that had transpired between them. Shooting out of bed, Yata could feel the anger begin to boil in his chest. Fine. If Fushimi was going to ignore his phone calls and texts, there was only one thing he could do. A last ditch effort to try and get Fushimi to talk to him...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After taking a week off for vacation, I am finally back and ready to post weekly again! Thank you to everyone who reads and comments on this fic, it keeps me motivated!! I hope everyone enjoys the direction this story is about to take! <3 Thank you as always to Adriana for being my beta <333


	7. Chapter 7

“FUSHIMI!”

The shout was loud and obnoxious, and therefore, Fushimi concluded it could only belong to one person, and one person alone.

If it had been a week or so ago, Fushimi would've been surprised to see Yata Misaki standing angrily in the hallway, but Fushimi was anything but. Of course Yata would come bug him in person, and of course, some idiot from the front of the store would let him upstairs; probably to torture Fushimi even more.

“What the hell man?!” Yata continued, stomping over to Fushimi's cubicle. Everyone was staring, Doumyouji and Hidaka in particular; both of those idiots had their heads peaked over the side of their cubes, smiling like bastards. Fushimi threw them a pointed glare and then turned his focus to Yata.

His face was red and sweaty, his mouth turned into a frown as he panted heavily, as though he had just climbed a hundred flights of stairs. "Fushimi!" he repeated and stormed forward towards Fushimi's desk, every step was heavy and echoed in Fushimi's head. He should've known Yata wouldn't be the type of guy to ever take a hint.

“...who the hell let you up here?” Fushimi spoke finally, clicking his tongue when Yata leaned forward, getting right in his face.

“That's not important!” Yata yelled, and Fushimi winced from the sheer level of his voice.

“Isn't it though?” Fushimi mumbled, mostly to himself. Really he just wanted to know who the hell he had to yell at about letting strange, loud boys up to the second floor.

“What's important is why you've been ignoring me all week?!” Yata scoffed.

“Because I know exactly what you plan on asking me every time you call and text, and my answer is still no. It will always be no,” Fushimi stated. He stared at Yata's burning hazel hues.

“So you didn't answer me cause you don't wanna sing my song?” Yata folded his arms indignantly, and let out a large huff air.

“Yup,” Fushimi said bluntly. “And I didn't feel like listening to your obnoxious voice yell at me about it.”

Yata frowned and rolled his eyes. “And what if I just wanted to talk to ya’?” he asked.

Pursing his lips, Fushimi leaned back in his chair and flicked his gaze to his phone. He found that hard to believe. There was absolutely no way Yata had planned to call him like that and not once mention anything about the song he wanted him to do. “And _did_ you just want to talk to me?” Fushimi questioned, though he was already well aware of what the answer would be.

“Well, yeah!” Yata said. “Even if you, _you_ don't say we're friends. I say we are. You don't just do the things you've done with me with anyone!” Fushimi wasn’t sure if Yata was referring to the times they had hung out, or the time they had slept together. Regardless, he didn’t want Yata shouting about it.

“Shut up, idiot,” Fushimi said. He reached forward, yanking Yata towards him, and covered his mouth. “Can't you have a normal conversation at a normal decibel!?” he hissed. He held Yata in place, and leaned forward in his chair, glaring daggers at Doumyouji, Hidaka, and Akiyama (who had recently joined the other two in being nosy). All three boys quickly snapped back, pretending as though they hadn't been waiting with baited breath for the next piece of information to accidentally slip from Yata's blabbering lips. “I'd rather the whole office not know about my entire private life,” he snarled through his teeth.

Yata rolled his eyes, but nodded. Fushimi slowly removed his hand from Yata's mouth and grabbed a small handkerchief from his drawer, wiping his hand off. “Fine, fine,” he grumbled. “I'll be quieter if that means you're going to actually talk to me,” he said.

“You have two minutes, go,” Fushimi grunted, picking up his phone to look at the time.

“Two minutes!? Fine!” Yata whispered hurriedly. “I don't get why the hell you've been ignoring me all week. If you really don't wanna do the song so be it, but at least give me a chance to play you what I want to do. And if you really hate it, I'll leave you alone, I'll stop calling and texting about this.”

“About this?”

“I mean the song shit. It'd be cool if we could...you know...be friends or something,” Yata shrugged, and Fushimi noticed a hint of a red appear on his face. Did Yata really want to be friends with him so terribly? They were nothing alike—Yata was loud, boisterous, passionate, and Fushimi was passive, quiet, grumpy—the complete opposite of everything the DJ was.

“So if I agree to listen to your song and I hate it, you'll stop bugging me? And I can have some semblance of peace?” he asked.

Yata looked hurt, his eyes flashing for a moment, but he quickly masked it with a frown, his brow furrowing heavily. Yata pursed his lips. “Fine,” he snapped. “But if you don't hate it, if any tiny part of your cold heart likes it, you gotta at least try to learn and sing it!” Yata said, pointing at Fushimi's chest.

Yata's unintelligent determination was enough to drive Fushimi out of his mind. Yata's eyes burned brightly, all hurt gone, as though there was absolutely no way Fushimi would ever hate this so-called song. Was it impossible for Yata to learn a lesson? Fushimi had literally rejected every advance Yata had made. Anytime Yata played anything for him, Fushimi hadn't liked it. He hadn't hated it, sure, but he also hadn't liked it. And so what, he had drunkenly admitted to not absolutely hating Yata's music, but that didn't mean this one miracle song was going to change anything.

Yet, here Yata stood, determined as always, looking as though he wasn't ever going to leave this office—at least not until Fushimi agreed to listen to his damn song. Fushimi truly believed there was no way to get rid of the guy, and Yata hadn’t even made an ultimatum like that yet.

“I don't know what you expect to get out of this,” Fushimi sighed finally. “It's not going to work.”

“Why the hell are you against this?” Yata asked, tilting his head in confusion.

“I don't want to put my name on a song you plan to release to the public. Maybe you want to be famous and have everyone staring at you, but I don’t," he growled, folding his arms.

“You think I wanna be famous?” Yata asked.

“Well you've said it quite a few times,” Fushimi admitted. “I believe your exact words to me were about how we would collaborate on a song, and then we'd be super famous and hit it big and go on a tour,” Fushimi explained blandly. “All of those things don't appeal to me in the slightest.”

“It's not only about that though!” Yata said quickly, leaning forward, his voice loud once again. “I mean sure, it would be cool to go on a tour, or something, but that's not what it's about! I wanna share music with people!”

Fushimi raised an eyebrow at him, “Aren’t you doing that already?” he asked, skeptically waiting for the red-haired boy to continue.

Yata grunted and shook his head. “Why the hell do you think I keep trying to get you to listen to music and hear what I'm doing? I want to share music with people, I want people to get excited, I want them to get up and dance!” he smiled widely, and despite himself, Fushimi felt his cheeks heat up. Why the hell did Yata have to be so damn pure about his passions?!

“Admittedly, when I first saw you in the crowd a few weeks ago, I was so pissed, and I couldn't understand why. It was so damn obvious you hated the music and you didn't wanna be there, and all I wanted to do was get you to dance,” Yata said slowly. “I tried everything that night, and you know, Kamamoto and my other friends, they all told me it was one of the best shows I'd ever DJed, but it still felt like such a damn failure because of you, Fushimi. I'd never experienced someone who didn't move at all!

“Then it got even worse when I realized you didn't even really like music!” he exclaimed, leaning back against Fushimi's desk. He looked down towards his hands, fiddling with his thumbs. “The main reason I became a DJ was because...I was so inspired listening to another DJ’s music. I was in this club, cause my friends had dragged me there, and the DJ, Mikoto-san—he was amazing. It was like I could feel the music crawl under my skin, and it moved me. I couldn't _help_ but move. The beats pulsed against my heart, and the sound was trapped in my ears. I can't explain it, but time moved so differently that night,” he said softly. “Before I knew it, Mikoto-san had stepped down from the stage and it was all over. I knew I wanted to do that for people. Create a connection you couldn't physically see, but you could feel you know? I wanted the power to do that—what Mikoto-san did. And I don't know if I can, but I feel like I'm pretty damn close. So meeting you really threw me off, I dunno, I felt like I had failed completely.”

The look on Yata's face was one of complete sadness, as though Fushimi had broken his soul by not dancing to his music.

Fushimi sighed. “You didn’t…fail,” he muttered softly.

“What?” Yata blinked, staring at Fushimi. His gaze bore into Fushimi's skin and made him fidget awkwardly in his seat as he turned around to look at the computer screen

“You didn't fail,” he mumbled. “Well, first off, I've told you this so many damn times, but you shouldn't let one person dictate how you feel about one night of DJing. If your friends said it was your best night, you shouldn't assume it wasn't because of one person,” Fushimi scoffed. “And I'm...an anomaly,” he explained. “I shouldn't have been there in the first place, I was dragged. Clubs aren't really my kind of place anyway, so you shouldn't include me in your...statistical analysis of that evening,” he coughed, clearing his throat.

“See!” Yata said, pointing again.

“What?” Fushimi asked, pushing Yata's finger down, not liking the way he had pointed it so rudely at his chest once again.

“You act like you're this huge, stuck up asshole, but sometimes you're not that bad.”

“Not that bad?” Fushimi questioned. He hated when Yata said things that were true.

“Yeah, you're kinda nice,” Yata smirked.

“No.”

“Ya’.”

“…No.”

“Yeah, you don't gotta admit it or anything, you already gave yourself away, dude,” Yata said, and Fushimi rolled his eyes, having no desire to continue the argument. “Or maybe I'll just get you drunk again, and then you'll give me one of those half-assed compliments you're so damn good at,” Yata teased.

Deadpanning, Fushimi held his phone up. “You've already gone way over two minutes,” he said.

“Okay, okay,” Yata said hurriedly, waving his hands around quickly. “Look, I get it, you don't wanna put your name all over shit. You don't wanna be famous. You don't wanna perform or anything!” he said. “But just give me a chance to show you this song. If you like it, and agree to help me, you can...I dunno, stay anonymous! You won't have to use your name at all. You don't have to perform or anything! Please Fushimi, when I heard your voice, I just knew I needed you!”

Once again, Yata was looking at him with such intense determination, Fushimi had to turn away from his gaze. Frankly, he didn't know what to say. For so long he had been determined to say no. He wanted nothing to do with singing, nothing to do with anything which reminded him of his horrible father.

However, he couldn't help but freeze when Yata had said he needed him. The last time he'd heard those words, Munakata had given him a job, and Fushimi had started a new life. Though he often acted frustrated especially with the people at his job, he was actually quite...happy. Or at least, happier than he had ever been before, growing up in the household he had.

Fushimi was a genius, amazing at computers, talented when it came to machines and technology, but it was something he had always been naturally gifted at. It was nothing he had to put a lot of effort into, nor did he want to. He'd never had anything he'd really cared about doing all that much. Even this job had fallen into his lap, and without Munakata's help, Fushimi wasn't sure what he'd be doing right now.

And now there was Yata, eyes burning bright with passion, begging Fushimi to take a plunge and help him. Everything in Fushimi's being told him to turn around and run, run away from this strange opportunity he theoretically wanted nothing to do with. But there was a small tug, a gentle pull in his beating heart, which made him want to reach out and take Yata's metaphorically outstretched hand.

He stared back at this stupid DJ, who apparently _needed_ him, and Fushimi didn't hate how it had sounded, how desperate and passionate Yata's eyes looked, begging for Fushimi's help.

Fushimi sighed, watching Yata’s gaze be completely unwavering, even as Fushimi took what seemed like the longest pause in existence. “Fine,” he whispered. “Fine I'll at least try and listen to it.”

“Really?!” Yata exclaimed loudly. “I promise you're going to like this one, I made it with you and your voice in mind! Shit! This is going to be so great!” he smiled, laughing loudly.

“Whatever,” Fushimi muttered, clicking his tongue. “Now, leave me alone. I have a ton of work and that was more like twenty minutes instead of two.”

“Okay, okay,” Yata said quickly, stepping out of his cubicle. “I'll see you when you're done with work?! Just come over! Bye!” Yata smiled, waving as he ran out of the small office.

Fushimi didn't even say bye, or wave, letting the rambunctious boy leave him alone with his thoughts, and he contemplated what exactly he had just agreed to.

~~

The scene was familiar. Fushimi standing outside of Yata's house, waiting to push the button. This time however, he didn't hesitate, wanting to get this over with as fast as he could. He continued to reflect over why exactly he had agreed to this in the first place. Normally he was so sound in his decisions, never letting others affect what he did or didn't want.

But Yata Misaki had this uncanny ability to convince Fushimi otherwise. All the idiot had to do was smile, get all passionate, and immediately Fushimi could feel his heart wavering. He hated himself for it, but he also couldn't bring himself to stop.

“Oi! Fushimi, come on up!” Yata called out cheerily. “I'll see ya' in a second!” The loud buzzer sounded, and Fushimi climbed to the top of the stairs to Yata's apartment.

“Hey!” Yata smiled, opening the door for him to come inside.

“Yo,” Kamamoto called out casually, lifting a hand to wave. He seemed to be eating a large bowl of rice, and working on some kind of music thing, as Fushimi could see the program open on the laptop in front of him.

“Mmm,” Fushimi hummed. “So, show me the song,” he said quickly. If he hadn't spoken up, he was certain Yata would’ve exploded with excitement anyway. The red head's eyes were practically sparkling as he stared at Fushimi, still standing in front of the door. Eager was the only word Fushimi could use to describe him.

“Right! Yeah!” Yata said, leading him down the short hallway to the backroom once again. “I really do think you're going to like this one. I tried to make it suit you,” Yata said. “Not too fast, but not too boring and monotone,” he smiled. “After you hear it, I'll let you know how we go about getting shit recorded,” he said, giving Fushimi a thumbs up.

Blinking, Fushimi sighed, “If I like the song,” he muttered, though trying to convince Yata he might think differently than him seemed to be an impossible task.

“Right, but you're gonna,” Yata smirked, pulling out his laptop. He flopped into the chair, and folded his arms, turning to look at Fushimi. “I know you don't really enjoy music, and to be honest, I don't really know why. As your friend, I kinda wanna know more, but it doesn't really seem like you're the type of guy to talk about this kind of shit.” Fushimi was surprised Yata wasn't trying to get it out of him, not that Fushimi would ever start to explain his past to Yata. He barely knew anything about the DJ besides the fact Yata was pushy as hell, loved music—well, they _had_ slept together. Sex didn't matter to Fushimi, however, they weren't close, and he had no plans to tell the other anything about his family or his past.

Clicking his tongue, Fushimi glanced away from Yata, not wanting to be under the scrutiny of his hazel hues. “I came here to here to hear the song, nothing else, so let's hear it,” he grunted, wanting Yata to hurry this along. He'd spent the majority of the work day nursing a headache, and thinking through his thoughts about the idiot DJ.

The song hadn't begun to play yet, but Fushimi could hear his heart begin to throb in his ears. He had this strange feeling—even if he hated the song, Yata was going to convince him to do it, since apparently he was so damn weak to the red-haired boy's desires. Still, the idea of hearing his own voice in such a way terrified him.

_Are you scared you'll sound just like me, my little monkey?_

It wasn't something Fushimi wanted to explore much deeper than he already had.

“Alright, alright, you're so damn impatient!” Yata snorted.

“Says you,” Fushimi scoffed, watching as Yata pressed down on the spacebar to start the song.

It was loud, which Fushimi expected, all of these damn electronic songs were so bass heavy, and some of them had strange synthetic noises which threw Fushimi off. Though thankfully, this song seemed to be fairly tame, compared to some of the other things Fushimi had heard Yata play for him. The beat was smoother, and he could see why Yata had claimed this would be more 'his speed’.

Yata's gaze was fixated on Fushimi, and Fushimi didn’t need to look over at the eager DJ to know he was awaiting Fushimi's opinion. Fushimi still didn't understand why. After all this time, for some strange reason, Yata still respected his thoughts and opinions on things when it came to music. Even though Fushimi had told him multiple times he didn't like music, plus he had criticized Yata's music specifically, and not danced when he first met Yata in the club. Any sane person would've run in the other direction from Fushimi, but not Yata.

Yata supposedly needed him.

As the song continued, it picked up a bit, the beat dropping when it got to the chorus, which was to be expected, Fushimi had gathered, when it came to songs like these. Again, similar to the song Yata had played for him weeks prior, it wasn't completely offensive to Fushimi's ears, but it still didn't make him want to offer his vocal talents to Yata at all.

He sucked air in through his nose. “It wasn't...the worst thing I've ever heard.” It wasn't a compliment, but it was certainly an improvement from the last time he had completely gone off on Yata as to why he had hated the damn song. He looked at the screen, not wanting to see Yata’s eyes.

“That's...a pretty non-committal answer,” Yata grunted. “I mean we agreed if you liked it, you had to sing for me.”

“No we didn't. You decided that,” Fushimi grunted, folding his arms indignantly as he stared at Yata.

“So you didn't think it was the worst thing you've ever heard, but did you _like_ it?” Yata asked.

“I gave you my opinion,” Fushimi muttered.

Slamming his hand down on the desk, Yata stood up and glared at him. “Fine,” he growled. “Different question. Will you or will you not sing this song?”

“What will you do if I say no? You going to beg me?” he asked, a grin appearing on Fushimi's face.

“Beg you!? C'mon don't be an asshole!” Yata snarled. “Just tell me if you'll do it! If you liked it enough then just don't be a huge—”

“I'll do it.”

“—asshole about it. And if you didn't like it, which wouldn't even be surprising at this point—”

“Yata. I said I'll do it.”

“'Cause I mean you haven't liked _anything else_ I've played you. Why the hell did I even bother!”

“Misaki...” Fushimi clicked his tongue, attempting to get the other boy's attention.

Yata whipped his head around. “What the hell did you just call me?!” he snapped, looking back towards the other boy.

Fushimi sighed. “I was trying to get your damn attention. I already said I'll do it.”

“HAH!?” Yata exclaimed, looking directly into Fushimi's eyes. “You will?!”

“Yeah. You're not gonna give it up if I say no,” Fushimi grumbled.

Yata blinked a few times and leaped towards Fushimi, wrapping his arms around him. Even if Fushimi liked hugs, it still would've been uncomfortable. “Shit! Thank you! This is going to be amazing.”

Stumbling backwards, Fushimi growled, trying to push Yata off of him. “G-Get off, or you can forget what I just said!” he snapped.

Yata scrambled off of him quickly, but kept the same smile planted on his face. “Alright, alright. But seriously...you'll do it?!”

“I agreed, and you're still asking?” Fushimi rolled his eyes. “Stop. I said yes. Don't make me change my mind.”

And Fushimi couldn't help but blush when Yata smiled even wider, his eyes closed, and scrunching up, small dimples in his cheeks. “I can't wait to work on this with you, Saruhiko!”

~~

Misaki was pacing. “I gave him the right address…” he muttered, opening the door one time to peer at the number on the side. It was Sunday, and he'd rented a small recording studio downtown for a decent price. Not cheap, but thankfully not expensive. It was only for an hour, but hopefully Saruhiko had actually listened to the song over the weekend like he was supposed to. If Saruhiko knew it decently well, they would have more than enough time to record the song.

“Where the hell is he?” he muttered. He'd even made sure to tell Saruhiko how time sensitive this was, but even still, it seemed like Saruhiko was going to be late.

Normally, Misaki would've recorded it himself in his home studio. But he didn't have a microphone that was as well equipped for singing, so renting a studio out for a morning wasn't too bad, especially since he could do all the recording himself.

Finally, after about five minutes of waiting, Saruhiko showed up. Misaki frowned, watching as Saruhiko stepped out of the car. “What the hell took you so long, Saru!?” he yelled. “I could only afford to rent this place for an hour! Hurry up!”

“Saru?” Saruhiko's eyebrow raised, looking at Misaki skeptically.

“Well...we said the other night...I thought first names would be...okay...” he muttered.

“Tsk. Assuming things I see, Mi-sa-ki,” he snorted, stepping through the door. “Whatever. Call me what you want.” He flicked his hand, stepping inside.

“Yeah, whatever! We're wasting time, just get in the damn booth,” Misaki growled, pointing to the door.

The room was tiny, and gray. There was a small desk, next to the door, and a couple filing cabinets. But in the main part of the room there was a long mixing board, larger than the one in Misaki's tiny studio. Behind that desk was the small room, with a glass window for the person recording to see out of it. There were a few posters hanging on the walls of albums, some movies and television shows, which Misaki assumed had recorded in this studio at some point, even if it was just an episode, or a song or two. The place was a little run down, but he guessed that was what happened when you couldn't afford the higher-end studios.

Misaki placed his laptop down on an empty part of the desk, and followed Saruhiko inside of the booth. He adjusted the microphone stand, making it tall enough to reach Saruhiko. “Did you practice?”"

“...I listened a bit,” Saruhiko muttered, picking up the set of headphones. He wrinkled his nose for a moment, before putting them over his ears.

“Good!” Misaki said, and walked out of the booth, shutting the door behind him. He opened his laptop, and hooked the wires up, letting the sound connect. “Alright!” he cheered, holding his finger down on the talkback, a small button which connected to the speaker inside the booth. “Can you hear me, Saru?” he chuckled.

“Yeah.”

“Good! Okay, so just uh...say something...or sing a line. I just gotta make sure the sound is working properly,” he said.

“Alright. I'm saying something,” Saruhiko muttered softly, his voice barely picking up.

Misaki rolled his eyes. Saruhiko had probably only said that to be an ass. “Good enough,” he grumbled. He turned a few knobs, turning up the sound so it would be easier to hear Saruhiko's quieter voice. He could always fix things when he went to actually put the vocals in with the backtrack he had created, but for now, he wanted the quality to sound as good as possible.

“Okay,” Misaki began. “We're gonna get started. I'll play the music, and you'll hear it through the headphones, so sing along, okay, Saru?” he said.

“Okay.”

Turning up the volume, Misaki began to play the song from the beginning. When Saruhiko's part came up, he waited and all he could hear was weird mumbling. He stopped the music and rolled his eyes. “Very funny Saru,” he snorted. “We'll go again.”

Again, Misaki started the music and waited for Saruhiko to begin singing. This time he was a bit louder, but still, his sound was muffled and mumbled, as though he were barely putting any effort into the sound coming from his lips. Growling, Misaki stopped the music again. “What the hell are you doing Saru?!” he snapped. Was Saruhiko trying to play some sort of trick? 

“Singing,” the other boy shrugged casually.

“That's not singing, that's...that's just mumbling!” Misaki yelled. “Do it for real!”

They went again, Misaki playing the music, and Saruhiko began his strange mumble singing once more, causing Misaki to let out another frustrated groan. What was he doing? Of course Misaki had expected Saruhiko to be difficult in regards to this, but he hadn’t expected him to not try. “Really Saru?” he said, glaring at him through the small glass window. “Are you even trying?!”

“I told you...I don't sing.”

“Yeah but you _can_!” Misaki yelled. He was getting pushier than normal, but he knew Saruhiko could do it. He’d _heard_ it, and he could feel it in his gut. There was no way Saruhiko was going to sound bad once he began to actually try.

“But I don't,” Saruhiko replied, his face looking bored and deadpanned.

“Okay, okay, okay, one more time.” Misaki looked at Saruhiko, who nodded, keeping the headphones on as Misaki watched him this time. There was practically zero emotion on his face, besides what Misaki could only label as slight disgust, and when his part came, he mumbled once again into the microphone, his lips barely open.

“STOP!” Misaki said, folding his arms indignantly. “What the _hell_ , Saru!” he snapped.

“I told you I don’t—”

“Yeah, yeah, you don't sing,” Misaki said. “Okay can you just…” Misaki paused, rubbing his forehead. “Can you just try? For me?” he asked. “I dunno maybe try opening your mouth more when you do it. You've got the tune right and shit, and you're not even off pitch, you're just so damn quiet!” he yelled.

Saruhiko let out a long sigh, his eyes rolling. 

“Listen, I paid a lot of money to rent this studio, and you promised me. Just...let's do it one more time...and open your mouth, okay?!” Misaki said. Misaki knew this wasn’t something Saruhiko had really wanted to do, but he had a feeling the ass wouldn’t hate it if he put some effort in. In fact, it might help him release some pent up emotion.

Saruhiko clicked his tongue, glaring at the microphone. “Fine,” he said. “I'll try...harder, or something.”

“Just be louder,” Misaki explained.

“Ah, alright, so express my inner you,” he smirked.

“Shut up, asshole, just...try it, okay?!” Misaki said, and sat back down in the chair. He didn’t enjoy being this forceful, but Saruhiko was always so damn difficult. The only thing which had worked in the past was pushing, so if it took an extra push to get Saruhiko to open up, Misaki was willing to be a bit meaner than normal.

He pushed the button on his laptop, starting the music yet again. His heart was racing as he waited to see what Saruhiko would do. He really thought if Saruhiko would just put a little bit of effort in, it would be absolutely amazing.

And Misaki was right.

When Saruhiko opened his mouth, singing along with the track, Misaki couldn't help but blush. His tone was smooth, and connected with the flow of the music. Actually, Misaki couldn't believe just how perfect Saruhiko's voice fit over the track. It meshed, as though he was sewing a thick silver thread of melody into the track Misaki had created. Misaki wanted to say Saruhiko sounded just as he had expected him to, but the reality was, he sounded better.

For a moment, Misaki let the sound wash over him. He could feel Saruhiko's voice trail into his ears and fill the tiny room with how full his timbre was. Somewhere along the way, Misaki's mouth had dropped open, and he was staring, staring at how perfect Saruhiko's lips were, how perfect the sound was coming out of it. There was a tiny part of him which only desired to kiss him again, press those lips against his own and absorb the beautiful sound.

He closed his eyes, and he could feel his blood racing through his arms, his torso, his legs. He could hear his heart pounding in time with the bass of the track, slow but with an excited fluttering, and all he could hear was the sound of Saruhiko's singing, mixed with his own short, shallow breaths—it felt exactly how he remembered it feeling when he had heard Mikoto for the first time, and though Misaki wanted to take credit for creating the song, it was Saruhiko's voice which was evoking all the feelings inside of him once again.

When Saruhiko finished singing, Misaki forgot to stop the recording, still staring at him, jaw wide, until Saruhiko leaned forward and tapped on the glass. “Misaki…Misaki…hello?” he called into the mic.

“Right…Shit,” he said, shaking his head, breaking himself from the trance. “Sorry...it was just...really good.”

“…” Saruhiko was silent, staring down at the microphone, as though he didn't believe what Misaki had just said. “Mmm. Really?” he asked finally.

“Yes, really! I mean...I completely forgot what the hell I was doing, I couldn't stop listening to you…” he said. “It was 10,000 times than I expected!” Misaki exclaimed, looking extremely excited, and apparently said smile was contagious, as Saruhiko's normally pouting lips curled into the smallest grin. “Let's do it again, cause...I want a couple versions just to see...but don't change anything okay?” he explained. “Then we can do the uh, harmonies and extra stuff. Think you can handle that?” Misaki said.

Saruhiko clicked his tongue. “Once wasn't enough?” he grunted. Admittedly, Misaki would've walked away from the recording using what Saruhiko had just done, but he wanted to do a few more...just in case.

“At least one more.”

It took them the full hour to get through the rest of the material, harmonies, and layers Misaki needed. Saruhiko looked tired by the time Misaki was done with what he wanted, and he stumbled out of the booth, stretching up. “Glad that's done,” he said so quietly, Misaki wasn't sure he heard him right.

“Saruhiko…” Misaki said, shutting his laptop after he transferred all the files. He turned to face the taller. “That was amazing. And—and don't be an ass! I'm serious. You're a natural.”

Saruhiko clicked his tongue, and took a long sip of a water from a bottle he'd stolen from inside the booth.

Frowning, Misaki shoved his laptop back into his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder before staring at him. “I became a DJ because I wanted to move people...and you just...you just did that okay? And it's not easy to do that.”

“You wrote the song dumbass,” Saruhiko scoffed.

“Yeah,” Misaki stepped forward, staring at Saruhiko intensely, his hazel eyes glaring up at Saruhiko's blues. “And it would be nothing without you.”

Misaki reached his hands up to cup Saruhiko's cheeks, pressing their lips together. He’d been dying to kiss him again since the asshole had begun to sing. It was better than their first kiss— Saruhiko's lips were cold, a bit wet from the water he had drank. The taller felt stiff, since the kiss had been rather unexpected, but Misaki felt Saruhiko's hands rest on his hips as he deepened the kiss. Misaki opened his mouth, pressing against Saruhiko's lips harder, their tongues connected when Saruhiko did the same. Misaki's breath was hot, and he breathed through his nose, his hands moving to drape over Saruhiko's shoulders. Misaki nibbled on Saruhiko's lower lip, his tongue pressing against the taller's, letting out a disappointed sigh when they pulled away.

“...What was that about?” Saruhiko asked softly, his breath labored as he tried to catch it.

“It was...a thank you…” Misaki said, his face flushing.

“A thank you? You...you don't even know how the final product sounds,” Saruhiko said quietly.

“I don't gotta, I know it's gonna be great. Just...have some faith in yourself, asshole,” Misaki said. "We did this together."

“Hmph...whatever...Didn't you say we only had an hour in here?” Misaki was about to yell at Saruhiko for changing the subject, but when his eyes glanced at his watch, he blinked fast.

“Shit you're right...we gotta get outta here,” he exclaimed, and grabbed Saruhiko's wrist as he dragged him out of the building. “I'll, uh, show you the final song once I'm done, okay?” he said, catching his breath. “I gotta go return this key down the street before...uh...5 minutes is up..shit. I'll see you later!” he called back, running to his car as fast he could.

~~

Sitting back in his own studio that evening, Misaki ran his hands down his face. Saruhiko's vocals were absolutely incredible. All three of the main lines they had done were practically perfect. Misaki didn't even have to use much pitch correction. There were effects he planned on placing over the track, but that was more for the effect, not to fix anything about Saruhiko's a-capella vocals. He couldn't believe the asshole had never sang before. And really, where had Saruhiko been all this time...Misaki had to convince him to do another song...or well, first he supposed he should get through this one.

Misaki didn't get it. Why had Saruhiko been so reluctant to sing for him when his voice was this damn good? Had something happened to make him resent singing so much? Misaki couldn't imagine what it could be. Saruhiko was an asshole, but he was also a pretty quiet guy, didn't seem to like talking all that much, maybe that had something to do with it. Maybe he was just shy?

He wanted to ask, but Saruhiko also seemed to be pretty private, and stubborn—getting information out of him was like pulling teeth.

But Misaki couldn't stop thinking about it, Saruhiko's voice...Saruhiko's lips...

_Saruhiko's lips._

He had almost forgotten about the kiss. Shit. It was so damn embarrassing! And Saruhiko probably thought he was some love struck idiot. He had been so damn excited about the song, and how good it had sounded. He'd been waiting forever to make a track like this, and with Saruhiko's voice, Misaki was sure it was going to be everything he had wanted from it and more...and so he hadn't been able to resist Saruhiko's damn pretty lips. He wanted to say he regretted it, but really, he didn't at all, even if it was embarrassing.

He had texted Saruhiko a little earlier to thank him again, and he also told him he'd let him know when the final track was completed and done, but currently Saruhiko hadn't texted back. Nothing new really. Misaki had texted Saruhiko for a week with absolutely no response. But this time, Misaki felt like an anxious teenage girl waiting for her crush to text her back. He kept checking his phone, as though looking at it would make a text magically appear on the screen. It didn't of course, but it didn't stop Misaki from doing it.

So he'd decided to stop focusing on it, or at the very least, he wanted to _try_ and stop focusing on it. He needed to concentrate on the song anyway. The Fall Festival was only two weeks away, and if he needed to make any adjustments for the song, he wanted to know now.

He spent the majority of the evening mixing the song together, trying not to check his phone for any word from Saruhiko, as currently there was nothing. It still needed more work, he wanted to tweak some of the effects he'd put on the background layers, but for now, he was off to a good start.

“Yo! Yata!” Kamamoto knocked on the door, opening it slightly. “I was gonna order something for dinner, you hungry? I figured you weren't in the mood to cook tonight,” he chuckled.

“Yeah, I'll get something,” Yata said. “But hey, can you listen to what I have so far?” he asked, holding out his headphones to Kamamoto. His roommate nodded, and slipped them on over his ears, standing in place when Yata hit the button to play the track for him.

He could hear a bit of the song through the headphones, and the moment Saruhiko began singing, Kamamoto's brow raised, his eyes peering over his glasses to stare at Yata. His body began to bounce in time with the music, his head bopping up and down. “Shit, Yata. This is really good,” he said, before the song had even ended.

Yata smiled, thinking about how awesome the final product was going to be, how amazing it would be to share it with an audience at the festival. He wondered how Saruhiko would react to hearing it? Would he like the song his own voice was in?

“You're gonna use this, right? It's already amazing,” Kamamoto said, still bouncing with the beat.

“Hell yeah! I think I've got the perfect song for Fall Fest,” he grinned, pumping a fist up into the air. He was ecstatic—he had to thank Saruhiko again, and Misaki definitely didn't mind if that meant giving him another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! Chapter 7! I'm happy to be back on a weekly posting schedule!! I think there are about 5 or 6 more chapters of this left! So halfway there about! :) I hope you guys continue to like this! As always Adriana was my lovely beta, and she really helped me a lot and listen to me whine about stuff with this XD SO I appreciate it!! Also thank you to everyone who comments on this fic, honestly your comments are so sweet and encouraging it really keeps me going <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter finally introduces Mikoto into the story, so I'd like to add here:   
> [Mikoto's DJ Playlist](http://8tracks.com/emeraldwaves/waves-mikoto-s-dj-playlist) (link goes to 8Tracks) Please enjoy!!

_Buzz~ Buzz~_

His phone wouldn't stop going off, and since he was at work trying to focus, Saruhiko was beginning to find it incredibly annoying. For some incomprehensible reason, Misaki felt the need to update Saruhiko about 'their' song every chance he got, but Saruhiko didn't really want to hear anything about it. The situation was over, and as far as he was concerned, Saruhiko never wanted to sing again.

Admittedly he hadn't _hated_ it, singing for Misaki. The booth had been small, and claustrophobic, so Saruhiko was pleased it hadn't taken longer than an hour, and while he hadn't appreciated how intense Misaki had been about getting him to open his mouth, when he had actually sang, and not 'mumbled' as Misaki had labeled it, Saruhiko kind of felt released. As though emotions he'd been holding back for a long time finally had come out through the song.

On top of that, he’d been having a hard time forgetting the kiss the two of them had shared after the session. It had been unexpected, Misaki walking up to him and kissing him practically out of the blue, but Saruhiko supposed it wasn't unwarranted after their previous encounter, and Saruhiko actually remembered this one. He remembered Misaki's lips pressing sloppily against his own, and how perfectly his palms had sat on Misaki's hips. He'd liked the kiss so damn much, almost enough to make him slightly regret being so intoxicated for their initial private time together. It hadn't been fair, how much Misaki had caught Saruhiko off guard that day, between the song and the kiss, it had been overwhelming.

He would never, ever say these things to Misaki however. If he let the DJ know he had enjoyed it, Misaki would've begged him to sing more, or worse, tried to get even closer to him. Though sharing another kiss or two probably wouldn't have been the end of the world. In fact, Saruhiko maybe, just maybe, wouldn’t have minded it.

He flicked the small button on the side of his phone, silencing it, but not before glancing at the last text Misaki had sent.

**[Text: Yata Misaki]:** I hope work is going well for you, Saru...

Ugh. Why did Misaki have to be so damn genuine? He hated that so much, it always made him feel a twinge of guilt he absolutely hated.

**[Text Reply: Yata Misaki]:** It's fine. Busy.

**[Text: Yata Misaki]:** Awesome! me 2 teh song is almsot done I can't wait 2 show u

Misaki's texting skills left so much to be desired; sporadic punctuation, typos everywhere, it drove Saruhiko insane.

**[Text Reply: Yata Misaki]:** Great. Learn to text properly. It's so hard to read.

**[Text: Yata Misaki]:** Shaddup!!!11

Saruhiko rolled his eyes and placed his phone down next to the keyboard, sighing as he returned his focus to the screen. Work wasn't going to finish itself, and though he normally stayed late, he preferred if he did so of his own accord, not because he actually had to.

**[Text: Yata Misaki]:** Do u wanna come hear it when it's done????/

Saruhiko bit his lip and clenched his fists. Misaki never gave up.

**[Text Reply: Yata Misaki]:** Sure. Just text me when it's done. I don't need updates.

**[Text: Yata Misaki]:** What? Just wanna talk to ya...

**[Text Reply: Yata Misaki]:** Busy. Work.

**[Text: Yata Misaki]:** Sheesh, even through text messages youre an asshole!!11

Saruhiko could imagine Misaki's face heating up, his voice raising as he folded his arms angrily, and he couldn't help but smirk a bit at the image. Misaki was so easily riled up, it was kind of cute. Shaking his head, Saruhiko slammed the phone down, not wanting to get distracted anymore.

"Oi! Fushimi-san!" Doumyouji called out from across the office. Glancing down at the screen, Saruhiko noted it was now lunch time, which meant his co-workers would do what they always did—bug Saruhiko to come to lunch with them. Leaning over his cubicle wall, Doumyouji beamed down at him, and behind him stood Hidaka and Akiyama. "Come to lunch with us? We all wanna hear about your recording session with the DJ!"

Saruhiko wanted to ask how they all knew about it, but Misaki hadn't exactly been quiet when he had stormed into the place the other day, demanding Saruhiko sing for him. The whole office knew about the song Saruhiko had gone to work on.

"Forget it. I'm behind. I'm just going to eat at my desk," Saruhiko waved his hand in front of Doumyouji's face, wanting to send him away.

"Aww, c'mon Fushimi-san! We're all dying to know more!" he said enthusiastically. "What was it like? Do we get to hear it? Is it done yet?"

Silently, Saruhiko wondered how these people had come to work for Munakata when all they could do was act like children. Did people ever grow up?

"It's not done," he muttered, glancing to his phone, reminded of how much Yata had been texting him. "And maybe you can hear it when it's done. I'll think about it," he grumbled. Doumyouji opened his mouth to speak, but Saruhiko quickly turned to face him, frowning. "If I say yes will you leave me alone?" he asked, snorting.

Doumyouji quickly nodded, and gave Saruhiko a thumbs up. "For now."

"Good. You can hear it when it's done, now leave me alone," Saruhiko sighed.

"No need to get so angry, Fushimi-san," Akiyama stated softly. "We're all sure it sounds great. Munakata-san is also looking forward to it. It's all he talked about earlier today," he smiled.

Saruhiko outwardly groaned, not bothering to hide his dissatisfaction. "Just what I was afraid of," he muttered, clicking his tongue. "Please go."

The three men took that as their cue to leave Saruhiko alone, thankfully they weren't stupid enough to keep bugging him over and over. He groaned and turned back to his screen, finally able to get some work done.

And yet, as he attempted to focus, his mind kept wandering back to Misaki. Misaki's music, Misaki's cute laugh, Misaki's lips against his own. Even the buzz of his phone, which usually meant Misaki was trying to contact him, kept echoing in his damn mind. He groaned, and leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling. It seemed getting work done today was going to be next to impossible.

~~

"It's DONE!" Misaki yelled, barging out of the room. The door swung out fast, and slammed against the wall, causing Misaki to jump back for a second. "Oops..." he muttered, coming face to face with Kamamoto.

The chubbier male folded his arms and raised an eyebrow.

"I just got so excited..." he said glancing at the small dent in the wall. "It sounds fucking amazing!" he cheered. "I'm ready for Saturday!"

"Yeah, I figured! You wouldn't get so excited about something that sucked!" Kamamoto snorted. "Well," he scratched his cheek. "Maybe you would actually…never mind, just play me the song!"

"Yeah! Yeah, whatever!" he agreed, dashing back into the room, waiting for Kamamoto to follow. The two of them stood in front of Misaki's computer, and he tugged the headphones out, pressing the spacebar on his laptop to start the song. The beat began softly, the drum clap hitting on the off beat as the song began to build. Saruhiko's vocals came in, sitting perfectly in the backtrack, flowing with the music. Kamamoto's head moved up and down, now hearing the final product for what it was completely. His jaw dropped, listening to the chorus, and he smiled widely, letting out a laugh.

"Wow! Yata-san, you weren’t kidding. You're definitely ready for Saturday!" Kamamoto cheered, giving Misaki a high five.

"I know! I can't wait to show Saru! He's gonna love it!" he smiled, grabbing his phone to send him a text.

"Well...don't be disappointed if he doesn't like it or something..." Kamamoto said slowly. It was true, Saruhiko didn't have a good track record when it came to liking Misaki's songs.

Misaki scoffed, waving a hand in front of Kamamoto. "Nah man, nah! Did you hear this?! There's absolutely no way anyone could hate this song!"

"I...really admire your confidence, Yata-san," he said, chuckling a bit.

"Yeah! Saru's on his way." Misaki bounced up and down on his heels. "Alright, this is going to be awesome. There is no way I won't get noticed at the festival!" he cheered, pushing play to listen to the song again. It really was perfect. He'd spent the past few days on it, almost nonstop, and all the hard work had finally paid off.

"You know, it really feels like Fushimi is what was missing from your songs," Kamamoto whispered, staring at the computer screen.

Misaki nodded, puffing out his cheeks full of air. "I know, right?" he said, his voice quieter than before. "I think I found what I need to have in all my songs!" he cheered. "Too bad the idiot already said he wouldn't sing anything else for me," Misaki groaned, sitting back down in the chair.

"Is he coming over to listen?" Kamamoto asked, and Misaki nodded. "Maybe he'll...change his mind once he hears it," he chuckled. "I mean he's changed his mind a lot when it comes to the things you want him to do."

Misaki hated the way his face flushed, and he glanced away from Kamamoto. "T-That's true..." he practically jumped out of his seat when his phone sounded to buzz Saruhiko into the apartment.

Kamamoto grinned, and gently elbowed his friend in the arm. "You embarrassed?" he smirked, nudging him some more.

"W-WHAT?!" Misaki yelled. "I'm not embarrassed! Not at all, you know I think that was the door," he snapped, jumping out of his seat to go let Saruhiko in, ignoring the way Kamamoto laughed as Misaki traveled down the hall.

He swung the door open and smiled when he saw Saruhiko standing in the entryway. "Why is your face so red? Did you run a marathon before opening the door?" Saruhiko teased, clicking his tongue as he stepped inside.

"No!" Misaki snapped. "Look just, ugh, let’s go, I wanna show you this!" he grabbed Saruhiko's wrist and dragged him down the hall. "I've been working on this for days!"

"Have you slept?" Saruhiko asked, following him into the small room.

"Eh? Are you concerned, Saru?" Misaki grinned, standing proudly in front of his laptop.

"Not really, but you're probably obnoxiously grouchy when you're tired," he snorted, folding his arms.

Misaki scoffed, "Whatever. This song is amazing. The best song I've put together and..." he paused, his tone growing softer and softer the more he spoke. "It's all thanks to you," he muttered.

"You wrote the thing," Saruhiko replied, watching as Misaki's hand hovered above his laptop.

"Well yeah, but...even Kamamoto said your voice was the thing I was missing from my songs," he shrugged. "L-Let's just listen and then you can hear for yourself." Misaki pressed down on the space bar, letting the music begin. Misaki stared at Saruhiko's face, hoping he would see Saruhiko grow excited, though he knew that was a bit of a stretch. Saruhiko never looked overly excited about anything, let alone something he hated it. Misaki waited, tapping his food along as Saruhiko's vocals appeared in the song. Slowly, Saruhiko's blue eyes widened—it was a subtle change, one Misaki hadn't expected to see, but it seemed Saruhiko was surprised by the sound of his own voice.

The song ended, and Saruhiko stayed still, his blue eyes staring at the screen. "D...Did you like it?" Misaki asked tentatively, staring at the boy in front of him.

Saruhiko pursed his lips, and turned to look at Misaki, as if taken out of a trance. "Well...yeah..." he said softly. "It was...unique," he continued, as though he couldn't quite find the words to describe what he truly wanted to say.

"Really? You liked it?! You sound amazing! I wouldn't ever have guessed such a perfect sound would come from your mouth!" Misaki teased, but quickly flushed when he glanced at Saruhiko's lips, remembering their kiss. "Y-You know cause you kind of mumble a lot and act...like you," Misaki quickly added on.

Scoffing, Saruhiko grinned. "It doesn't sound like me. You're right. But...I guess I can see why you say it's good. It...is," he admitted, his knuckles clenching around his upper arm, apparently difficult for Saruhiko to offer Misaki such a compliment.

"So do you wanna come on Saturday!?" Misaki exclaimed excitedly. "I mean you don't gotta sing live or anything! But it would be awesome if you came to hear the song debut! I can get you tickets no problem!"

"Thanks but no thanks," Saruhiko quickly replied. "I was serious when I said I wanted nothing to do with this once it was done."

Misaki's face sank as he shrugged, glancing to side. "Right, yeah. I mean...I knew that," he said, swallowing. He should never have expected Saruhiko to want to come see him play, not after the first time. "Well uh, I hope we can hang out again still. I mean you're kind of cool, when you're not being an asshole," he grumbled.

Saruhiko rolled his eyes, but nodded. “Sure, we can hang out sometime, but for now, I'm going to head home. I'm exhausted and have a ton of work to sort through tonight."

And just like that, Saruhiko was walking out the door yet again, leaving Misaki feeling slightly disappointed that he hadn't wanted to stay.

~~

"Fushimi-san! Fushimi-san!!" Hidaka leaned over the side of Saruhiko's cubicle wall. "Guess what I have!" he grinned, leaning closer and waving a few small tickets in front of Saruhiko's face.

"Tickets out of town forever?" Saruhiko asked, raising an eyebrow. No, he knew something like that would be far too good to be true.

"Wow, so cruel Fushimi-san," Hidaka replied, frowning down at him. "Anyway," he said, shaking the insult off quickly. "I have tickets to the music festival on Saturday! I got four so we can all go and hear your song!"

"Forget it," Saruhiko scoffed. "I already said no to Misaki too."

"Eh!?! But it's your musical debut! We can't miss that!" Hidaka said.

"Yes we can. I want nothing to do with it," he muttered. "I had a horrible time the last time we went to a place like that."

"Yeah but this is outside!" Hidaka urged, though Saruhiko knew nothing the man said would convince him to go to his damn concert.

"Even worse," Saruhiko muttered, clicking his tongue. "I don't want to be anywhere near it. I don't want anyone to know it's my voice on that track either."

Hidaka sighed heavily, and flicked at the tickets gently. "Well now I have this useless fourth ticket. I guess we can ask the boss if he wants to come. I'm sure he'd love to hear you, yeah?" Hidaka smirked.

Saruhiko's eyebrow twitched, and he turned around in his seat, standing up to yank one of the tickets out of Hidaka's hand. "Fine. I'll go. Now leave me alone."

"Good! We're going to have so much fun!" Hidaka smiled. "Akiyama and Doumyouji are excited to hear your song too!"

"It's not my song. It's Misaki's. I just sang for it, and I'd like to forget that fact as soon as possible."

"But if you both worked hard, don't you want to share with your friends?" Hidaka asked, tilting his head slightly.

"Like I said, I want to forget I ever did it. Don't tell Munakata," he said, glaring up at the taller boy. It was bad enough Hidaka, Akiyama, and Doumyouji were going to be hearing the song, the last thing he needed was Munakata hearing it. Knowing his idiot boss, Munakata would probably go about playing it over the speakers so everyone could hear, and that was something Saruhiko _really_ didn't want. He hoped after hearing it once everyone would just forget about it.

It wasn't that he hated the song. In fact, hearing the song last night had been shocking. Misaki had been correct, it was one of the better things Misaki had ever put together, at least from what Saruhiko had heard. And his voice really did suit the track. The way Misaki had mixed everything in with the beats and electronic sound, Saruhiko had been extremely impressed. And best of all, he hadn't sounded like _him_ , as he had feared. When he'd actually sang out, he sounded quite different, and Saruhiko was insanely grateful for that. A small shiver ran down his spine as he imagined what it would've been like to have eternal proof that he was his father's son.

"It should be a cool festival. Some famous DJs are playing, Suoh Mikoto is going to be there, and I think Totsuka Tatara is going to be singing live with him!" Hidaka smiled. Minus the few times Misaki had awkwardly fanboy-ed about them, those names meant absolutely nothing to Saruhiko. "Why aren't you singing live for Yata? That would've been cool to hear!" Hidaka continued.

"Really? I barely want to go to the damn concert, you really think I would sing for him live?" Saruhiko scoffed. Saruhiko couldn't even begin to imagine what performing live would be like. He'd already put his foot down with Misaki about that. There was no way he would ever agree to that especially. He’d caved before, but not anymore. Standing on a stage in front of hundreds of people sounded like something out of a nightmare.

"True..." Hidaka muttered. "It's a little too bad, we all would've cheered you on!" he smiled sadly.

"You can still cheer all you want without me being on a stage, in front of tons of people." He suddenly wondered if Misaki ever got nervous. He never _looked_ nervous, at least not the few times he had seen him. Misaki was surprisingly professional when it came to his music, minus his pushy behavior, though Saruhiko supposed being pushy probably benefited him in the music industry. When you were starting out, it didn't help to be a wishy-washy pushover.

"Yeah! True. Then we can tell you right away how awesome you are!" Hidaka smiled. "Do you know what time Yata is playing at?"

"No idea," Saruhiko replied. "I'll ask him." Even if that meant Misaki would now know he was going to come to the concert.

~~

Misaki bounced up and down on his feet, his backpack flopping around against his back as his feet dug into the ground.

"Yata-san, you gotta stop! You're gonna break your laptop, then you'll really be nervous!" Kamamoto said, placing his hands on Misaki's shoulders to quell his nervous energy.

"Yeah, yeah, I know man!" he said. "I'm just so damn excited!" he cheered. "There is no way people won't like this, right! Right?! And Saru decided to come after all!” Misaki's hazel eyes glistened under the sunlight. "Plus...Mikoto-san and Totsuka-san's set is about to start. How could I possibly stand still?!"

"Yeah, I know. It's gonna be awesome, but you gotta also calm down dude!" Kamamoto said. "Do you know what stage they're on?" At a lot of these festival events, there were multiple stages, allowing for various artists to play at the same time. The main stage was reserved for bigger, signed artists, like Mikoto and Nagare, but the various side stages were meant to showcase up and coming artists like Yata. However, multiple stages meant picking and choosing who to listen to. Of course Misaki wasn't going to miss Mikoto's show for anything. Thankfully he was going to be on one of the side stages later, so he could enjoy Mikoto's show completely.

"The main stage of course! Mikoto-san has blown up this year in terms of popularity!" Misaki smiled. "Which is good, he deserves it. Him and Totsuka are an amazing duo!" he said. "C'mon Kamamoto," he said, grabbing the taller boy's wrist to yank him forward. "Let's get closer!"

"Wah! Y-Yata-san," Kamamoto yelled, bumping into a few people apologetically as they pushed forward.

Already Misaki could feel his heart begin to race. It had been so long since he'd seen Mikoto spin live like this...and he knew exactly what it would feel like. It was a feeling he'd been trying to replicate with his own sound for so long, he hadn't taken the time to listen to Mikoto, or many other DJs as of late, minus the few people he often worked with at various clubs. And now, finally, he was going to experience the euphoria once again.

"Man..." Misaki sighed as they stood closer to the stage in front of them. "You know, I wish Saru was here to hear this. I keep telling him how great Mikoto-san is, but I don't know if he believes me," Misaki mused.

Kamamoto sighed. "You know, I think it's best if Fushimi doesn't listen to Mikoto-san. I mean he's your hero, you don't need that guy shitting on it."

"I guess," Misaki muttered. "I just want him to feel as good as I felt the first time I heard Mikoto!" he explained softly.

"You really like him," Kamamoto smirked. "Don't you?"

"Eh? Mikoto-san? Of course! He's the best DJ there is!" Misaki exclaimed wildly.

"No!" Kamamoto groaned. "I meant Fushimi!"

Misaki's face immediately turned bright red.

"E-EH!? He's fine I guess!" he whispered, his face flushing as he did.

"Sure okay," Kamamoto smirked, turning is attention towards the stage as an announcement boomed over the speaker.

"Welcome to this year’s Fall Music Festival!" The man wearing sunglasses called out, standing in the middle of the stage. "If you couldn't guess, we're about to start things off with one of our main events for the day, Suoh Mikoto is here to play for a bit, and of course he'll be back later this evening! So please join me in welcoming Suoh Mikoto and Totsuka Tatara to the stage!"

The crowd erupted with applause, and Misaki cheered loudly, jumping up and down as he whooped and hollered towards the stage. Mikoto and Totsuka walked on, though as per normal, Mikoto went straight to the table, pulling out his large, impressive looking laptop. Totsuka waved, smiling brightly as he twirled at the front of the stage.

"Hello everyone!" Totsuka smiled, waving enthusiastically. "We're so happy to be here to share this Fall Festival with you! Say hello King!"

"Hey. Thanks for comin'," Mikoto muttered into the microphone by him on the table.

"Why the hell is he so cool?!" Misaki hissed, bumping into Kamamoto cheerfully.

"Last year, we played on one of the side stages, and this year we're happy to be one of the main events! Though...I am a little nervous," Totsuka giggled, rubbing the back of his neck as the crowd gave a small cheer, clapping for him even more.

"Don't tell 'em that," Mikoto said, tapping his hand against the laptop.

"Aw c'mon, King! How could I not be nervous!? There are so many amazing people here to see us!" he snorted, and the crowd laughed, clearly enjoying the show Totsuka was putting on.

"Yeah but they came to hear music, not listen to you talk," Mikoto teased, snorting as he quietly began to start the music in the background. More cheers began to build in the audience as Mikoto twisted the knobs on the soundboard to start the music up, and it echoed across the field.

"Hmm I bet you're right. You guys ready for some music?" Totsuka called out. The crowd responded with an even stronger cheer, the music growing louder and louder. "Good," Totsuka smiled, his eyes growing more intense as he looked out over the crowd. "That's what we're here to do. Provide you with some of the best music you've heard all year." Totsuka took a step back, tapping the mic in time with the beat against his palm, hoping to urge the crowd to clap along with the rhythm Mikoto was slowly building up.

As the beat dropped, Totsuka began to sing, moving about the stage excitedly, twirling around in time with the beat. Misaki's eyes sparkled as he watched Totsuka sing. Whatever he had remembered about Mikoto's music seemed to multiply tenfold with Totsuka added into the mix. He could feel his body swaying from side to side, moving in time with the beat the two had created, and one glance at the audience told Misaki he wasn't the only one affected by the rhythm of the music which soared out over the crowd. There were a few cheers and callouts, but almost everyone was completely involved in the music Mikoto was playing. Totsuka's voice echoed through the microphone and Mikoto added effects, though it was completely different sounding from anything they had recorded. Misaki had expected this, as not all effects were able to be performed live, but in a way, this was better. Totsuka's voice was smooth, but playful, and yet there was a heavy weight it held, sitting in Mikoto's songs as though it had always belonged there, as though they had created the song together, not in pieces.

Misaki was lost, he closed his eyes and listened to the sounds penetrating his ears. With the echo of microphone, the cheers of the people, and the sound of the outdoors, cars and birds, it all mingled together in his ears, as though everything was moving and working in slow motion. Mikoto's music felt as though it belonged in the natural order of the universe, and Misaki felt lucky to experience the beat pumping through his blood yet again. Misaki swayed in motion to the sound, feeling a bit jealous. He'd finally created something he felt was on par with Mikoto, and then hearing him live again, Misaki realized Mikoto had come so far, and adding Totsuka to the mix had only helped showcase how amazing his music truly was. He could've listened to them forever.

When the music ended, Misaki felt the world freeze. Kamamoto spoke to him, but Misaki couldn't hear what he said. He could only watch as Mikoto and Totsuka waved, saying they'd be back for the end of the night when all the main stage acts came together on stage for a closing number.

"Yata-san! Yata!" Kamamoto said, waving his hand in front of the short DJ's face.

"Hah?!" he said, staring at his friend.

"You gotta go check in! You're on in an hour!" Kamamoto said, pointing to his watch.

"EH!? Shit!" he said. "Mikoto-san was so...so amazing! I could've listened to it all day!"

"Yeah, it was great," Kamamoto agreed hurriedly. "But I don't want you to lose your spot."

"R-Right!! Let's go!" he said, dashing through the crowd, away from the main stage.

~~

Saruhiko wasn't sure what the big deal had been about Suoh Mikoto. All this time, Misaki had been going on and on about how amazing Suoh was, but listening to him just now, Saruhiko couldn't help but think Misaki was better. Misaki had a passion which flowed through his music, and he was always so damn infectiously excited. Suoh, on the other hand, looked bored, as though everything came so easily to him, and Saruhiko despised that. Plus, Totsuka was far too bubbly for his liking.

Saruhiko had stood at the back of the large crowd, not wanting to get any closer. Knowing Misaki, he was probably right at the front, excited as all hell to see his DJ hero playing live again. He thought to text him, but decided against it, not in the mood to listen to Misaki potentially fanboy about how much he loved Suoh.

Besides, the last thing he wanted was Misaki to change his mind about Saruhiko singing with him. After seeing Totsuka on stage, Saruhiko was sure Misaki would want him to sing live, and he had already promised himself he wouldn't cave.

"That was pretty amazing!" Doumyouji said, stretching up as the four boys walked towards the stage Misaki was going to play on in about 30 minutes. Hidaka and Doumyouji had insisted getting to the stage early so they could be closer, wanting to take Saruhiko's voice in completely. Normally Saruhiko would've complained, but at this point, he was already at the concert and he didn't feel like arguing any longer. He'd already lost the moment he'd stepped onto the green field.

"It was boring," Saruhiko replied, quietly.

"You're just biased because you like your boyfriend's stuff more," Doumyouji teased.

Saruhiko immediately frowned, glaring at Doumyouji, who was quick to jump behind Hidaka. "He's _not_ my boyfriend," he growled. "You're the reason dumb rumors get started, so shut it," he scoffed.

"S-Sorry, it's just you two seemed really, really, _really_ close!" he said. "You never cave to what people want, but you seem to always cave when Yata is involved!"

Saruhiko clicked his tongue, and sped up walking towards the stage. "Let's just keep walking," he grumbled, ignoring Doumyouji's comment.

Saruhiko purposefully didn't want to think about the strange pull Misaki seemed to have over him. Somehow, the idiot always convinced him to do things and end up in places he had no desire to be in. He had gotten him to listen to his dumb music multiple times, he'd gotten him to sing, and he'd gotten him to come this dumb concert, really Misaki was the reason Saruhiko had done many things he had never meant to do. And here he stood, waiting for him to play live, something he'd vowed he'd never do again after the first night in the club.

A man wearing a douchey hat took the stage, holding the microphone. "Welcome ladies and gentleman, especially ladies," he winked. "Is everyone having a great time? We're about to keep this party going by bringing a rising star to the stage, Yata Misaki! Keep an eye on this one, he's going to be big!" the guy said, the crowd cheering as he announced Misaki as the next act. "And let me just remind you, if you're a woman and would like to keep an eye on me, I am single ladies," he said, glancing out over the crowd.

"Who the hell is this guy?" Hidaka grumbled, folding his arms.

"Psh, you're just jealous that you can't let all these women know you're single!" Akiyama teased, snickering while Hidaka continued to pout.

"H-Hell no! I just thought that was trashy!"

The crowd began to cheer as Misaki bounded to the stage. He looked cheerful, waving at everyone as he placed his laptop down on the table and picked up the mic.

"Hey everyone, I'm Yata! This is my second year playing at the Fall Festival, but this year I got to upgrade to a bigger stage!" he said, and the crowd responded positively by cheering and clapping as Misaki spoke. "This year, I'm lucky to have a song I made with..." Misaki paused, causing Saruhiko's heart to race. Was Misaki going to say his name? He'd specifically wanted to remain anonymous. "...A friend," he finished, smiling. "It's pretty freaking amazing. So...I hope you all get up and dance!"

He placed the headphones around his head, and Saruhiko watched as Misaki took a deep breath. So the idiot _was_ nervous. Saruhiko shook his head, wishing he had taken the time to text him. He hadn't wanted to shatter any view Misaki had regarding his hero, but maybe if he had made it clear Misaki was better than Mikoto, it would've helped to quell his fears.

Smiling, Misaki began to turn up the sound and immediately Saruhiko recognized it as a song Misaki had played for him before. So it seemed he wasn't going to start with their song, made sense, it would be better for Misaki to build up to his best thing.

Saruhiko's eyes widened as he stood, watching Misaki on stage. Since when had he thought of it as 'their' song. It wasn't his, as he had said many times before. He had simply lent his voice to help Misaki with whatever he needed.

He currently didn’t feel like moving much, but beside him, Akiyama, Hidaka and Doumyouji were all moving back and forth, jumping up and down, quickly succumbing to the music. Typical, they were easily swayed by the sounds, but Saruhiko rarely felt like dancing, even throughout Misaki’s old songs he’d heard before.

A smile cracked on Saruhiko's lips, however, when he heard Misaki transition to the beginning of the song. It brought his tempo down a bit, but Saruhiko knew once it hit the chorus, people would be dancing again. In fact, despite himself, as the tempo began to gradually build up again, Saruhiko could feel his legs bouncing up and down with the rhythm of the familiar tune. His lips formed a whisper of the words once he heard his own voice coming out from the speakers.

"Holy crap! This really _is_ you! I can't believe it!" Doumyouji cheered over the crowd.

Turning to his co-workers, Saruhiko rolled his eyes. "Who else did you think it would be, idiot?!" he scoffed. "I wasn't going to lie about something like this," he grumbled.

Hidaka wrapped an arm around Saruhiko's shoulder and rocked back and forth with him. "You sound freaking awesome!! I can't believe you're actually on a real song!" he laughed, and Saruhiko ducked out from under his arm.

His co-workers were impressed by him, but the real impressive one was Misaki. He'd written the song, put it together, and was now presenting it to a large crowd of people, who could've rejected it altogether. Thankfully, that didn't seem to be the case.

The chorus of the song hit and Saruhiko felt it, the way the beat rolled through his body, and the way his own voice echoed in his ear. His knees moved up and down, and his hair flicked about his face, dancing to the music Misaki had produced. And for a moment their eyes met, just as they had the first night they had seen one another, but this time it was different. Misaki's lips curled up into a large smile, his own body rocking with the rhythm of the song, _their_ song, and Saruhiko wasn't sure if he could breathe. He recalled the times he'd kissed those lips, and all he wanted to do was tackle Misaki to the stage and do it again, especially if it meant seeing his smile stay so large and bright.

Misaki laughed and cheered into the mic, clearly thrilled by how positive the audience was responding to the piece, but Saruhiko really wanted to believe that Misaki was just excited he had actually gotten Saruhiko to dance. In that moment, it had only been the two of them, Misaki and Saruhiko, staring at each other as the music they had created together swirled around them and engulfed them in each other's gazes. Saruhiko would've stayed in that moment forever, and he didn't even hate the music which stayed trapped in his ears as they became the only two people in the large ocean of the crowd.

~~

Totsuka Tatara knew talent when he saw it. It was something he took pride in, and though Totsuka was mainly a singer, Kusanagi Izumo, the main agent at HOMRA Talent, often let Totsuka be the one to do most of the scouting for their new talent.

He'd been looking forward to the Fall Festival, not only because he and King were finally going to be main stage performers, but also because the extra downtime meant he was able to go exploring the side stage performers.

So far, everyone had been lackluster, most of the DJs not showing anything Totsuka felt like mentioning to Kusanagi. Most of them felt like awful imitations of the popular artists. Some had even gone so far as to remix some of Mikoto's music, only to make it sound electronic and fake. Of course, Mikoto's style had electronic origins, but Totsuka believed Mikoto's had more depth than most of the remixes he had heard so far.

But one DJ had made him stop directly in his tracks when he'd heard the chorus on one song. It was smooth, and the voice was unique, but worked with the stylistic track. Definitely the best he’d heard all day. The crowd was going wild for it too, cheering when the chorus picked up the tempo. Many people walking by, stopped, joining the crowd to dance along with the catchy tune. "Hmmm," Totsuka hummed, turning towards the sign with the schedule of performers on it, pulling out his phone.

"Izumo~" he mused into the phone, watching as the DJ in front of him moved about with the music. "Have you heard of a DJ named Yata Misaki? No? Well, I think you should listen to some of his tracks..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh I always get nervous these chapters are going to be boring XD especially when I know later chapters are going to be a little more intense! Anyway, I hope you like the new chapter and the new playlist :)! As always, Adriana was my wonderful beta!! :) Thank you guys for all the comments you leave! It really helps me continue this AU :) <333


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beginning is NSFW

Saruhiko had danced. Saruhiko had actually danced to his music. Saruhiko. Of course, Misaki's festival performance had been amazing, besides the fact Saruhiko had actually start moving to the song they had created together, but Misaki couldn't take his mind off of the scene.

Waving to the crowd, Misaki ran off the stage, a smile on his face as he remembered locking eyes with Saruhiko. His bright eyes had shone through the crowd, and Misaki could remember how beautiful Saruhiko had looked when he had moved under him during the night they had shared together. Misaki loved imagining how his voice had sounded when Saruhiko had recorded his vocals, raw and filled with emotion, and everything had come rushing back when he had found Saruhiko's eyes in the crowd.

All this time he'd been silently hoping his music would move Saruhiko to a point where he felt comfortable dancing along, and actually enjoying himself. Finally, using a song they had created together, he had done it.

Stepping off the stage, Misaki went around the back and practically collapsed against the metal stairs. He was proud. He’d gotten the crowd so pumped up, it had felt like he was talking to each and every person in the giant group. It was a blur in his head, one minute he was stepping on the stage, the next, he had seen Saruhiko for a split second, and then he was stepping off the stage, the performance feeling like it had never even existed. It took every part of his being to not run back out on the stage and keep going, performing forever, keeping the audience moving forever.

"Misaki!" It was almost as though he could hear Saruhiko's voice now, and silently Misaki wondered if he'd imagined Saruhiko the whole time. Maybe the asshole hadn't come at all, just as he had planned in the first place. How much sway could his co-workers have over him anyway? "Misaki, hello?"

A hand waved in front of his face, and Misaki's eyes widened as he saw Saruhiko standing directly in front of him.

"Eh? S-Saruhiko?! You're here! How did you get back here?!"

"Yes, I'm here. Keep your voice down, the next person is about to start. I snuck back here," he shrugged.

"You danced!" Misaki exclaimed, ignoring what Saruhiko had said.

The dark-haired boy clicked his tongue and folded his arms, glancing away from Misaki's shining hazel eyes.

"Don't deny it!"

"I...didn't exactly say anything," Saruhiko muttered, keeping his gaze turned towards the ground.

"I saw you, you were moving to the song...our song!" he smiled. "Did you like it? What did you think-"

Before Misaki could finish talking, he felt Saruhiko's lips against his own. It was a gentle pressure, and Misaki felt the bars of the metal stairs dig into his back ever so slightly. Saruhiko's lips were smooth against his own, and he hadn't kissed him since they had recorded together. Misaki had almost forgotten how good Saruhiko tasted.

"Idiot," Saruhiko mumbled against his lips, and Misaki felt his cheeks heat up even more. "What do you think?" he asked.

"...well you never really said," Misaki scoffed, staring up at the other boy. His gaze flicked to the side, wondering if anyone had seen them. He wasn't exactly one for public displays of affection, but damn, his heart was pounding, and between Saruhiko being this close to him and the rush of stepping off of the stage, Misaki wanted him. Badly.

"It was...good," Saruhiko whispered very quietly.

Misaki stared up at him, smiling widely. Was that a compliment? An actual compliment from Saruhiko? He couldn't stop his heart from racing in his chest. "Did you see how much they loved it?! Shit, they loved you--"

"Yata!" A voice called out from behind the stage, and Chitose walked around the corner, though he quickly stopped when he saw the two boys standing extremely close to each other. For a brief moment he narrowed his eyes, but stepped closer anyway, causing the two boys to put some space between themselves. Misaki felt his heart sink; damn Chitose, ruining one of the most positive moments he and Saruhiko had shared.

"H-Hey, Chitose. What's up?" Misaki said, nervously. "This is Fushimi Saruhiko, he, uh, sang in the song I played," he explained, and Saruhiko quickly grunted and looked away.

"No shit!" Chitose laughed. "Nice to meet ya'. I just wanted to tell you what a great job you did Yata! What a great job you both did!" he chuckled. "That track was freaking awesome. One of your best by far. You guys should collab more often!"

"Thanks..." Misaki muttered awkwardly, feeling as though Chitose had just caught them doing more than simply talking. Of course, they had been kissing just moments earlier...

Wrapping an arm around Misaki's shoulder, Chitose pulled him to the side. "S'cuse us for a second, I need to talk to my boy," Chitose smirked, waving to Saruhiko, who seemed pissed off, turning to the side with his arms folded.

"What the hell—" Misaki began, but Chitose dug into his pocket, slapping Misaki's chest with a couple of condoms and a small packet of lube. Taking the items from Chitose, Misaki's face lit up, completely red

"The tent for this stage is empty, and I'll keep it that way for a little bit, so go ahead and have some fun," he winked.

"Eh?!" Misaki exclaimed, his face still red as he stared at Chitose.

"Oh c'mon. I practically interrupted one of the most intense eye-fucking sessions I've ever witnessed. You had a good show and you're clearly into the guy, so just go for it man!" Chitose said, watching Misaki slip the condom and lube into his pocket awkwardly.

"Uh...thanks," Misaki muttered.

Pulling away from Misaki, Chitose glanced over towards Saruhiko, waving. "Nice to meet ya', Fushimi!" he smirked, winking as he walked away.

"Who the hell was that?" Saruhiko scoffed, as Misaki watched Chitose walk in the other direction. His gaze flicked over to the empty tent as he pursed his lips. He really did want Saruhiko...the kiss had been sexy...what with Saruhiko initiating and taking the lead like that, plus his adrenaline was still rushing from the amazing performance.

Misaki's hand wrapped around Saruhiko's wrist. "Chitose, he's a friend who works at the club I'm usually at, but, uh, c'mon," he muttered, and began to lead Saruhiko towards the tent. Surprisingly, the taller didn't protest, he followed Misaki without question.

Misaki slipped towards the tent, brushing up the opening with the back of his palm. He stepped inside, tugging Saruhiko in after him. It didn't take long for Saruhiko to realize what Misaki had planned. Saruhiko's fingers curled around Misaki's, and he pulled him close, kissing him again. Misaki sighed against him, wrapping his arms around Saruhiko's neck, kissing his lips harder. His teeth pulled at Saruhiko's lower, a small growl escaping his lips.

Saruhiko turned him around and pushed him against one of the tables set up against the back. His arms stayed wrapped around Misaki's waist, slipping their tongues together. Misaki's face was bright red, moaning as he pressed himself flush against Saruhiko, his tongue wrapping around Saruhiko's and his grip tightened around Misaki's waist.

"Chitose gave me...some stuff...so we could...you know..." Misaki stammered, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

"I figured," Saruhiko whispered, giving Misaki's hips a gentle squeeze. He leaned forward, Saruhiko's hot breath tickling Misaki's ear. "Now stay quiet, we don't want anyone to hear you, right, Mi-sa-ki?"

"Eh?!" he exclaimed, his cock throbbing in his pants from the way Saruhiko had spoken. It was damn unfair, hearing his voice now after hearing him sing for him. And Saruhiko was being so damn aggressive. The few times they had been intimate, it had been Misaki to take charge, as embarrassing as it had been. Now Saruhiko was the one pushing him against the table, holding his hips in place, and Misaki didn't even mind.

Outside he could hear the crowd cheering, the beat pulsing around the tent, and Misaki kissed faster, speeding up with the sound of the bass echoing in the air. His breathing grew heavier, shorter, as he pulled and tugged at Saruhiko's lips. He wanted him, more than he'd ever wanted Saruhiko before.

Saruhiko lips were swollen as he looked down at Misaki, pressing his ass into the edge of the table. "W-Wait..." Misaki hissed, and he placed his hands on Saruhiko's shoulders, hoisting himself up onto the table. "There," he muttered, grabbing Saruhiko's collar to pull him back towards his mouth. Misaki was needy for him, and he kept attacking his lips, nipping and sucking, small moans escaping his lips.

"Shh," Saruhiko hushed, the hot breath tickling Misaki.

"The music is way too loud, no one can hear," he grunted.

"And what will you say if someone walks in on us," Saruhiko teased.

"F-Fine..." Misaki panted, "hurry then."

Saruhiko listened. He fumbled with Misaki's shorts, pulling them down, and pushing Misaki back against the table. Saruhiko ground their hips together, grunting as he kissed Misaki more. Misaki hated how perfectly their lips seemed to fit together, how he couldn't get enough of Saruhiko's kiss, or his touch, especially when Saruhiko's hand dipped into his boxers and wrapped around his cock.

Saruhiko's strokes were so deliberate and intense, his wrist twisting around Misaki's shaft as he moved up and down, brushing his thumb over Misaki's pre-cum soaked tip. "Excited?" he whispered, kissing down Misaki's jaw, then his neck, his heated lips caressing Misaki's smooth skin. Last time, Saruhiko had barely touched him, as he seemed to be lost in his own pleasure, but this time, the taller was in control, and Misaki couldn't have found the words to complain even if he wanted to.

"S-Shut up. You're excited too...I-I felt it."

"Maybe..." he muttered, and rolled his hips against Misaki’s ass, proving he was as excited about Misaki has originally thought. A small grunt escaped Saruhuko lips as he rolled forward again pressing against Misaki and the table. The bulge in his pants felt thick, and Misaki wanted nothing more than to rip Saruhiko’s pants off and feel his naked form against his own. 

Pulling Misaki's boxers off before bending down to grab the lube from Misaki's pocket, Saruhiko squirted some onto his fingers and gently rubbed at Misaki’s small hole. His finger stroked over his skin and Misaki shivered, air escaping through his lips as he felt Saru begin to slip the finger inside of Misaki's hole, pushing up into him slowly. Misaki hissed, his trembling legs spread more as his body clenched around Saruhiko's finger buried inside of him. Saruhiko's other hand returned to Misaki's cock, and he began to pump his finger in and out while stroking him.

The stimulation was almost too much, Saruhiko’s hands were working Misaki, and he was unraveling under the intense touch. Misaki's head leaned back, his elbows pressing into the table as he moaned loudly. "Fuck," he grunted, covering his own mouth with one hand. 

"Is it impossible for you to be quiet?" Saruhiko asked, pressing a second finger inside of Misaki's tight hole. Air rushed out of Misaki's mouth as he thrust himself down, rocking the table forward as he bit his lip, a small amount of blood trickling from his lip as he did.

Saruhiko was evil, Misaki thought, as he curled both his fingers up inside him even more, brushing against spots Misaki forgot he had. It had been so long and his cock shot a small bit of pre-cum onto Saruhiko's hand. Looking pleased with himself, Saruhiko added a third finger, and brushed against the spot again. Misaki whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut.

"C'mon, just hurry," he grunted, knowing they didn't have much time. Chitose could only keep people away from the tent for so long, and being quiet was unbearable. Misaki felt like his throat was on fire, wanting to erupt with an explosion of expletives and moans.

He scissored his fingers inside of Misaki, causing the shorter to tremble against him. His cock twitched against Saruhiko’s palm with every brush of his fingers against Misaki’s prostate. His body shivered, his muscles aching with pleasure as Saruhiko stretched him. He felt overloaded, desperate and needy, his pants growing heavier and heavier. “Saru,” he whined, dragging out the taller boy’s name. 

"I forgot you prefer to rush into things," Saruhiko teased. 

"Says you!" Misaki growled. "Just...fucking do it, can't you see I want you!?" he snapped, his face turning bright red as he spoke. “And it’s not like we have all day anyway!?”

Saruhiko didn't need anymore convincing as he rolled the condom over his cock, pressing himself to Misaki's entrance. He placed his hands on the table, and Misaki wrapped his arms around his neck, clinging to Saruhiko as he pushed inside of him. He felt himself stretch, and while it was painful, throbs of pleasure trailed down his legs and up his spine.

The table began to creak lightly as Saruhiko started to thrust, his hips pushing up into Misaki. It felt as though Saruhiko's lips were all over him. He felt them suck on his neck, his jaw, his own lips, his collarbone, and Misaki was desperate to cry out, moving his hips down to match Saruhiko's thrusts.

Their eyes locked and Misaki bit his lip trying not to moan at how beautiful Saruhiko's blue eyes looked in the sunlight shining through the tent, the memories of just an hour ago rushing to him. Saruhiko dancing, those same perfect blue eyes locked on Misaki's hazel's through the crowd. And now he could see those eyes up close, his hands gripping tighter onto Saruhiko's back. He clung to his shirt, panting as Saru pushed up into him. Misaki wanted to moan, whimper, groan, or...something, anything to release the pleasurable pressure growing in his body. Each thrust was pushing against his most sensitive spot, and Saruhiko was moving in time with the bass pumping outside of the tent.

When the song was slow, Saruhiko's hips flowed like a wave of pleasure rolling into Misaki's body gently, but when the beat dropped, speeding the tempo up, Saruhiko's thrusts grew more frantic, pushing the table against the ground as Misaki clung to his neck hard.

"S-Shit," he grunted, knowing he wasn't about to last much longer. "I'm...I'm gonna cum..." he whispered softly.

"Do it," Saruhiko demanded, his hands cupping Misaki's ass tightly, his fingers squeezing into his cheeks. Misaki buried his mouth against Saruhiko's shoulder, biting on his shirt as he came onto his white sweater, his body trembling against Saruhiko's.

It didn't take long for Saruhiko to follow—he panted in Misaki's ear, groaning softly as he pushed himself up into Misaki once more, pouring his finish into the condom. Slowly, he lowered Misaki down, and pulled out.

Misaki took a deep breath, falling back on the table. "Damn...Saru," he panted. "That was almost as amazing as the concert."

"I highly doubt that," Saruhiko muttered, leaning over the table to press their lips together once more, after cleaning himself off and pulling up his pants.

Smirking, Misaki kissed him back, as he felt his phone slip out of his pocket, dropping onto the table. He reached down to pick it up, glancing at the screen.

**12 missed calls from Kamamoto Rikio**  
**5 new messages from Kamamoto Rikio**

"Shit!" he hissed. He'd been so swept up in seeing Saruhiko, he'd forgotten to look for Kamamoto like he normally did after the performance.

"What?" Saruhiko said, standing back up completely, adjusting his pants.

Hopping off the table, Misaki pulled his pants back up. He tugged off his now messy white sweater and pulled down on his shirt, then adjusted his watch, trying to smooth himself out.

He held the phone up to his ear, pushing through the messages. "Yata-san! Where the hell are you?! I've called you a million times! You gotta come to Homra's tent right now! They wanna meet you and—" Misaki lowered the phone slowly, and stared at Saruhiko, his eyes wide and excited.

"What?" Saruhiko repeated.

"It's...Homra. The company that sponsors Mikoto-san. They....want to meet me?!" he exclaimed. "I gotta...I gotta go to their tent right now!"

~~

"Where the hell were ya'!?" Kamamoto asked, as Misaki ran up to the tent, panting to catch his breath.

"I was just...I..." his cheeks were flushed as he tried to explain. He yanked off his beanie and fanned his face.

"Did you just run a marathon?" Kamamoto asked, tilting his head down towards Misaki's face. "Or...did you have sex?"

"EH!?" Misaki exclaimed loudly, shooting his hands up to cover Kamamoto's lips. "S-Shut up. I didn't do anything. Let's just...go inside okay?!

"You know, you're making way more of a scene than if you had just said yes or something," Kamamoto muttered, and Misaki hated how painfully obvious he was being. "But yeah, we shouldn't keep 'em waiting anymore."

"Did...they have a reason for wanting to talk to me?" he asked, clearing his throat—he was thankful for the subject change.

"I dunno. Kusanagi-san came looking for you over at the stage, but I couldn't find you, and neither could Chitose," Kamamoto explained. Misaki let out a soft breath, thankful Chitose had obviously kept everyone away from the tent he and Saruhiko had shared.

"Well, here goes nothing," Misaki sighed, and pushed into Homra's tent. Inside there were two men—a taller man, probably Kusanagi, stood by one of the small tables, and Totsuka Tatara sat off to the side, one leg crossed over the other as he stared down at his phone, clearly reading something.

"To-Totsuka Tatara?" Misaki gasped, the words slipping from his lips before he could think to stop his mouth.

"Hm?" the blond glanced up and smiled at the frozen teen. "Can...I help you?" he asked.

Kusanagi also turned around, and smiled when he saw Kamamoto. "Ah! You must be Yata Misaki. The DJ we've been looking for!" Kusanagi said, placing a hand down on the table as he leaned forward.

"Ah! Yes sir, that's me, uh, sir," Misaki stammered, taking off his hat quickly as if to show some sort of respect to the two. However it made him fidget and look rather uncomfortable.

"Oh!" Totsuka smiled, jumping up from his seat as he leaned in close. "It IS you, isn't it? Boy, people always look so different up close, don't you think, Izumo?" he chuckled.

"Eh? Have I met you before?" Misaki asked. "I-I mean of course I know who you are, but...how do you know who I am?" he continued, baffled by Totsuka's attitude.

"I'm the one who saw you spinning earlier," Totsuka explained. "I was exploring the festival, looking for other talented DJs, and I was completely mesmerized by your performance!" he chuckled. "I immediately called Izumo and we had to find you. Actually we thought you maybe had already left."

"N-No! I mean...I gotta stay and hear you and Mikoto-san's last song!" he said, his face bright red, his tone earnest.

"Mikoto-san?" Totsuka's eyes widened. "Mmm. I see! Are you a fan of King's?" he asked.

"Uh...Mikoto-san's fan? Yeah...well, actually he's one of the reasons I became a DJ. I saw him perform and it...made me wanna do it too," he chuckled.

"No wonder!" Totsuka exclaimed, clapping his hands together excitedly. "King has an amazing ability to connect with the crowd, and draw people in. Ahh, I'm so lucky to get to sing some of his songs," he giggled, shutting his eyes as he sighed dreamily. "Anyway, when I was watching you earlier, I was beginning to feel the same way."

Misaki's eyes lit up, his face flushing. Was this really happening? Did Totsuka Tatara actually think he was similar to Mikoto-san? For so long he'd been working hard to inspire others to feel the same way he had the first night he had seen Mikoto. Of course, all this time he was sure he hadn't been doing a great job, but apparently he was doing better than he realized.

"Totsuka called me immediately," Kusanagi explained. "And so, I'd like to hear one of your tracks. Since you already have Totsuka's approval, if we, meaning me and Mikoto, enjoy your track-"

"We'd want you to be our opener!" Totsuka cheered, cutting Kusanagi off.

Kusanagi sighed, rolling his eyes, though he was still smiling, amused by Totsuka's enthusiasm. "Yes...that. And if the performance goes well, perhaps we could talk about a collaboration and a contract," he finished.

Misaki couldn't believe what he was hearing. Totsuka and Mikoto wanted him, Yata Misaki, to be their opening act for a show. He thought he was maybe going to pass out.

"We'll be performing at the bar Kusanagi owns, it's King's favorite place to do so. Actually it was one of the first places he ever performed. So what do you think? Want to be our opener?"

"Of course!" Yata yelled quickly, as if saying yes too slow would've made the opportunity disappear. "I-I mean if Mikoto-san says yes that is," he muttered, rubbing his arm awkwardly. Misaki's heart was throbbing so hard he was terrified it would maybe leap out of his chest. Was he really going to be an opener for Mikoto-san? He glanced towards Kamamoto, wanting to know if he was possibly dreaming. However, his best friend had a large goofy smile on his face, looking just as excited as Misaki.

"Oh he will!" Totsuka said. "Plus with your singer there live, I'm sure your track will be even better."

Misaki froze. "E-Eh? Live?" he swallowed. There was no way in hell Saruhiko was going to perform that track live. In his head, Misaki could already hear the echo of his annoyed voice as he repeated no over and over again.

"Usually for performances we like to have live singers, we feel it helps with the aesthetic of the music. Plus people tend to get more excited when you actually have the singers involved," Kusanagi explained.

"I-I see," Misaki stammered, glancing towards Kamamoto yet again, noting the similar look of fear on his face. "I mean I don't know how much draw me having my singer there would be, we're both nobodies," Misaki muttered.

"Does your singer not live around here?" Kusanagi asked.

"Uh, no...that's not it..." he sighed. "Saruhiko, he...doesn't really like music, and made it clear he'd never perform the song live," Misaki admitted finally.

Totsuka began to laugh. "Your singer doesn't like music, and yet he sang for you?" he asked. "How interesting."

"Yeah, he's...kinda odd," Kamamoto admitted.

"But incredibly talented," Misaki added quickly. "He just doesn't like music all that much and sang for me as a favor. Does it have to be a live performance?" he asked quietly.

Kusanagi glanced to Totsuka, letting out a soft sigh. "Well, not necessarily. I mean it would better your chances for a contract and a collaboration. However, you aren't a name yet, but it's best to sell two people if possible. Of course, Mikoto and Totsuka did just fine collaborating later in their career."

"I can ask him. I mean if he knows it's a huge opportunity...maybe...he would," Misaki shrugged. There was a large sinking feeling in his gut. Saruhiko would never agree to this.

Pulling a small piece of paper from his wallet, Kusanagi held it out to Misaki. "Here's my card. Call me in the next few days once you know. If he says no, we'll discuss from there. In the meantime we'll show Mikoto your song."

Taking the small card from Kusanagi, Misaki held it to his chest. Even if the performance didn't work out...Mikoto was going to hear his song. He found it hard to believe he wasn’t dreaming. He smiled, and nodded. "Thank you, Kusanagi-san!"

He was just going to have to convince Saruhiko, as he had every other time.

~~

"Where the hell is he?!" Hidaka exclaimed. Throwing his hands in the air, Hidaka let out a long groan. "I wanted to switch to Nagare's stage, but Fushimi has no clue where he's going. He'd get lost for sure. Or leave..."

"Maybe he already did leave," Akiyama said, shrugging his shoulders awkwardly.

"EH!? Do you think he would do that?!" Hidaka asked, pulling his phone out of his pocket, dialing Fushimi's number. Once again it rang a few times before directing Hidaka to voicemail.

"I wouldn't put it past him," Akiyama continued. "I mean, he didn't really want to come."

"True, but he did get into it when his song came on. It seemed like he wanted to see Yata pretty badly," Hidaka muttered.

"You think?!" Doumyouji said.

Hidaka folded his arms and nodded. "Definitely. He barely gave us a chance to answer when he said he'd be right back."

"The song was amazing! I can't believe Fushimi-san can sing that well! I wonder why he doesn't sing more!" Doumyouji added.

"You know Fushimi-san," Hidaka chuckled. "He can barely talk, what makes you think he's going to want to sing anything ever?"

"Hm. You have a good point," Doumyouji muttered, scratching the side of his head.

"But the song _was_ really good," Akiyama chuckled.

Hidaka jumped when his phone vibrated in his hand. "Ah! Finally!" he said, holding the phone up to his ear. "Fushimi-san? Where are you—Eh? Okay, yeah...we're right at the back of this stage, close to the sidewalk," he explained. "Yeah, where you left us…" He hung up the phone. "He's about to come back," Hidaka explained.

"Did he sound sorry?" Doumyouji asked, but Hidaka shook his head, tucking his phone back into his pocket.

"Of course not."

~~

Saruhiko, in fact, didn't even feel a little bad having ditched his co-workers. Partially because he didn't particularly care if he stuck around them for the rest of the day, but also because he had so desperately wanted to see Misaki after the damn performance.

He hated how much it had affected him, but he had lost himself a little in that crowd. For the first time he'd felt the need to dance along with the words he himself had sang. He had assumed he would hate it, the sound of his own voice, the way singing would remind him of _that man_.

Yet, it had been the opposite. He hadn't even sounded like himself, it was as though he were hearing the song for the first time. Surrounded by how the crowd had moved, it felt completely different. It had been shocking to say the least. 

And then he and Misaki had locked eyes and Saruhiko was gone. The crowd had disappeared too. It was only the two of them, and the song they had created together. Saruhiko couldn't get the moment out of his mind, so of course he had to run to Misaki after everything was done. 

Misaki's pull—the way he was able to draw people in was addicting. Saruhiko hated it, how much he fell under Misaki's spell, especially when his passion had shone brightly on that stage. He couldn't even blame himself for losing control with Misaki on the table. Damn...the idiotic DJ was like no other person Saruhiko had ever encountered. He couldn't shake that feeling even if he tried. 

Tucking his phone away into his pocket, he trudged forward, heading back towards Hidaka. He felt a bit disappointed Misaki had run off to speak to the idiots from some talent agency. He couldn't exactly blame him, internally Misaki was probably about to explode from excitement. However, there was a small part of Saruhiko which had wanted to spend the rest of the day with Misaki. Maybe go somewhere else where it could just be the two of them... 

But of course Misaki would prefer to stay at the festival and meet people, listen to music. This was something he'd been looking forward to for so long. Saruhiko wouldn't want to take Misaki away from that. 

He puffed out his cheeks as Hidaka, Akiyama and Doumyouji came into view. Doumyouji was quick to wave wildly, excited to see Saruhiko walk up. 

"Hey," Saruhiko muttered. "I'm ready to go." 

"Go?!" Doumyouji said. "But you just got back!" 

"Yeah, where the hell were you?!" Hidaka asked. 

"Talking to Misaki," he shrugged. 

"Just talking?" Akiyama asked, leaning forward. "Your face looks flushed, and you look a little happier than before you left," he noted. 

"Oh ho ho!" Doumyouji said, leaning in close to Saruhiko. "Did someone get a little lucky when he went to see his boyfriend?!" 

"He's not my boyfriend," Saruhiko sighed, rolling his eyes as he pushed Doumyouji's face away. 

"You didn't deny it though!" Hidaka teased. "No wonder it took so long!" he said, letting out a large laugh. "You were having fun backstage! Man, no fair. You go off running around with your boyfriend, but we have to sit here and wait for your ass." 

Pursing his lips, Saruhiko rolled his eyes. "You could've easily gone off with some girl if you wanted, but I didn't see you trying to talk to anyone but us." 

Hidaka sighed and rubbed his forehead. "I guess you're right...Fushimi-san, you always gotta hit right where it hurts." 

"Did you have a good time with Yata, Fushimi-san?" Akiyama asked, ignoring Hidaka's plight. 

"Mm. It was fine." 

"If you want to spend more time with him, we can meet up later," Akiyama offered quietly. 

"Yeah, we wouldn't want to stop you from having a good time with your boyfriend," Doumyouji teased. 

"He's not my boyfriend. He went off to hang out with some other DJs," Saruhiko shrugged. "I'm just ready to head home. I heard what I wanted to." 

"Did who you wanted too," Doumyouji added, and Saruhiko rolled his eyes yet again. 

"Well, we already missed Nagare's set on the main stage," Hidaka whined. "So I guess we could wander around. Maybe get some food." 

He wasn't keen on spending much more time with them, but he had no food in his house, so getting dinner probably wouldn't be horrible, especially after the...exercise he had just done... "Mmm...I could eat," Saruhiko admitted. 

"Great, let's get going!" Hidaka smiled, leading the group away from the festival. 

Glancing back, Saruhiko couldn't help but stare at the stage in front of him—the place where he'd seen his connection with Misaki come to life. 

~~ 

"Please Saru, please, please, please." 

"I already said no, Misaki," Saruhiko grumbled. "I said no yesterday on the phone, I texted you no this morning, and I'm saying it again now." 

Actually, Saruhiko wasn't sure why he had even let Misaki into his apartment, he supposed that had been his first mistake. Misaki had called him yesterday while he had been at dinner with Hidaka, Akiyama, and Doumyouji, spouting incomprehensible nonsense. It was only when Saruhiko had gotten Misaki to calm down and actually speak a language he could understand, that Saruhiko knew what was going on. 

Misaki had been invited to be the opener for Mikoto and Totsuka's concert, however they wanted Saruhiko too. Apparently they'd be okay with it being Misaki by himself, but he'd have a better chance of getting signed with the talent agency if Saruhiko was there to perform live with him. He knew this would happen. This was exactly why he didn't want to agree to it in the first place. Saruhiko had no desire to be the cause of holding Misaki's career back, and right now it seemed he was the only thing standing between Misaki and his potential contract with this talent company he seemed to adore so much. 

However, he'd made a promise to himself, and he was going to stick to it, no matter how much Misaki's cute begging made him want to cave. Besides, if Misaki hated him after all was said and done, it would probably be easier. 

Hidaka, Akiyama, and Doumyouji had spent a few minutes trying to convince him, however, Saruhiko wanted nothing to do with live performing. 

Misaki had spammed texted him the next morning, and now here he was, sitting in Saruhiko's kitchen begging him once again. 

"Please Saruhiko. I promise you won't regret it." 

"Don't make a promise you can't keep. How do you know I won't regret it? I told you, I don't like being around people. I have no desire to stand in front of a big crowd and sing for them," he muttered. 

"Okay, what if you just...stood behind me, or...somethin'," Misaki muttered. "Please Saru! I'll do anything you want. Literally anything," Misaki begged, flopping down on the chair. "This is such a good chance for me!" 

"Ugh, you look disgustingly pathetic right now," Saru muttered, flicking his forehead across the table. He hated how cute Misaki looked, leaning his chest over the table, his lips curled into a pout. Leaning back, Saruhiko folded his arms. "Will you really do anything I ask if I agree to this?" 

Misaki jolted up, his hands clenching the edge of the table, rocking the piece of furniture around a bit. "Yes, anything! Anything you want." 

Saruhiko placed his palm on the small table, stopping it from falling over. "First of all, don't break my damn furniture," he muttered, and Misaki huffed out a large puff of air. "Second of all, I might be willing to do it, if you promise me this will be the last thing you ask of me. No more songs, no more singing. Nothing." 

Misaki grunted and took a slow seat back down in the chair. At first, Saruhiko thought Misaki was about to get angry, but instead his facial expression turned soft. "Saru, can I ask you somethin'?" he said quietly. 

"Tsk. You're going to anyway," Saruhiko replied, clicking his tongue. 

"Why do you hate music and singing so much? I mean there's gotta be a reason. I know you're kind of a pissy guy, but it just...always seems so extreme." Misaki's voice was uncharacteristically quiet, as though he knew he was poking into something he shouldn't. 

Saruhiko let out a long sigh, his mind immediately flashing back to his father. Songs he played over and over, songs he sang to Saruhiko, teasing and taunting him. His father had such a damn good voice, and occasionally Saruhiko wondered what it would've been like if his father had been a normal man. A man who loved his child enough to sing him a lullaby before bed, a man who loved his child enough to teach him how to play one of the many guitars which sat in his father's private study. Instead, his father had been the man to sing horrible songs in Saruhiko's ear, whisper threats in a creepy singsong. His father had been the man who had smashed his guitars against the window when Saruhiko had touched one without permission. 

_"I would've been famous if it hadn't been for that damn woman getting knocked up, leaving you with me...I would've traveled the whole damn world."_

Maybe there had been a time when Fushimi Niki had loved music, had loved singing, but any joy the man had found in the art had long disappeared, and was only used to fight against Saruhiko. 

_"It's your fault."_

So how could there be any joy in music, Saruhiko thought, if his father hated him and music so damn much? 

"Saru?" Misaki asked again, pulling him from his memories. 

"Ah. Don't worry about it." 

"Don't worry about it? What the hell kind of answer is that?" Misaki snapped. "You looked off in the distance for about 2 minutes, like you were thinking about something really hard!" he said. "And you've been pushing me away ever since the beginning! You can't tell me not to worry about it!" Misaki's chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath after the loud rant. His eyes were intense as he stared at Saruhiko, his hazel hues shimmering under the strange lighting. 

"It...was my father." 

"Your father?" 

"Yeah. Apparently he was some musician before he and my mother had me. He knocked up my mother, she had me, and left me with him. He couldn't pursue what he wanted, and he hated me for it," Saruhiko explained bluntly, though he didn't want to reveal too much. 

"...he hated you?" Misaki swallowed, and Saruhiko turned his gaze away. He didn't want Misaki's pity either. 

"Yup. Used to sing creepy songs and shit. Doesn't matter anymore. I don't even know if he's alive," he shrugged. Saruhiko stood up and carried the few plates to the kitchen sink, but quickly lurched forward, dropping them with a loud clang as he felt Misaki's arms wrap around his chest. His nose pressed against Saruhiko’s back and for a moment they stood there, not saying a word. Saruhiko didn't even push him away, as he stood. "What are you doing, idiot? I said it didn't matter—" 

"S-Shut up. It does matter. It matters because you're clearly affected by it, you asshole. You don't listen to music, and...you don't wanna sing, even though you've got this freakin' beautiful voice," Misaki whispered. "And I forced you to do it all anyway...even though it hurt you...I'm sorry..." His hands tightened on Saruhiko's shirt, and the taller boy froze, the grip hard to handle. 

"I could've said no if I really wanted to. I mean I could've...kept saying no." Saruhiko's hands gripped Misaki's and he pulled them from his chest, turning around. "You're a pushy asshole, but I guess it worked out." 

Misaki stared up at him, squeezing Saruhiko's hands as he furrowed his brow. "I want to make it better, Saru! Make happy memories with me and music, okay?!" 

Saruhiko wanted to tell him it was pointless because Misaki had already done that. He'd made him sing, and Saruhiko had realized he sounded nothing like his father. And then Saruhiko had seen him perform on that stage and everything in his body had come alive, for Misaki and the music he had shared—the music they had created together. 

He could've told him, but instead, he cupped Misaki's cheeks and kissed him. It was a softer kiss, tender and passionate, especially compared to their hurried kisses of the past. Neither of them were in a rush, and Saruhiko's lips slipped over Misaki's, breathing gently into his mouth. 

"I'll...do it," he whispered. "Just this once." How many times had he agreed to things like this with that stipulation? 

"You will?" Misaki said, his eyes darting about as they moved from Saruhiko's lips to his eyes. "You will!?" he exclaimed louder. 

"Shh. Ugh. Yes. Just this once," he repeated. And as Misaki cheered, smashing his lips against Saruhiko's once more, Saruhiko thought he maybe would've done anything Misaki had asked in that moment. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man I wasn't sure I was going to make it in time for this chapter, but I did it! And ahh this story is so much longer than I thought it would be!! I'm glad you guys are all sticking with it! I did change the rating and some of the tags! Huge thank you to Adriana for beta-ing this monster as well LOL IDK how she puts up with it tbh!
> 
> QUICK NOTE: I know I normally update weekly, but I'll be taking a week or two off to work on stuff for Mikorei week! But once that is done, I'll be back :) Thank you guys for understanding!


	10. Chapter 10

Regret began to settle into Saruhiko's being a few days later when Doumyouji and the others caught wind of the performance Saruhiko had agreed to do with Misaki. This subsequently meant Munakata had found out as well, and that made Saruhiko feel even worse. So much so, he attempted to avoid Munakata every time he locked eyes with the man in the office.

However, by the afternoon a few days later, there was absolutely no avoiding his boss.

"Oya! Fushimi-kun, I heard you're going to participate in a live performance this weekend. How thrilling!"

Thrilling was one word for it. It certainly felt like something out of a horror movie. Saruhiko clicked his tongue. "Tsk, sure."

"I think it would be wonderful if the office went to hear this song of yours," he grinned, and Saruhiko knew it was a telling grin. One that let him know, Munakata had known everything anyway and he wasn't about to let Saruhiko say no to the entire office coming to see him. He also had to know how much Saruhiko despised the idea of performing live and was silently hoping Misaki would change his mind.

Of course, Misaki had shown no signs of doing such a thing. In fact, it was more the opposite. Misaki wouldn't shut up about how excited he was. He was constantly texting Saruhiko, which wasn't anything out of the ordinary, but every text was related to how excited or nervous he was to perform live. The emotions fluctuated depending on the day, and Misaki was a ball of anxiety whenever he called Saruhiko and left him a multitude of messages.

So far, Saruhiko had been consistently avoiding practice, in hopes that Misaki would maybe forget the whole thing and he could silently slip away into the shadows. It was a foolish thought, since Misaki rarely forgot about anything regarding Saruhiko and music, let alone something he'd been dying to do his whole life.

Saruhiko was stuck it seemed. At the very least, he wasn't going to let the whole damn office come and watch him make a fool of himself on that stage. "No," he said finally. "No one is coming to watch." Just thinking about the performance made him want to throw up.

"It's good for co-workers to support each other's endeavors," Munakata smiled.

"I wouldn't exactly call this _my_ endeavor," Saruhiko grumbled. He assumed there was no way he was going to get around people coming to watch, especially if they already knew about it. It wouldn't be difficult for them all to figure out where and when it was, especially if they were smart enough to ask Misaki.

"But Fushimi-kun, we still would like to support you, whatever it is you do." He doubted any other boss cared as much as Munakata. As annoying as it was he did mean well, and he cared, more than Saruhiko could say about most of the people throughout the course of his life.

"Yeah, yeah," he said, sighing as he rolled his eyes, watching Munakata finally leave him alone. He knew he was probably going to see him, Hidaka, Akiyama and the rest at the performance whether he wanted them there or not.

He was going to have to cave to Misaki and actually start practicing. This performance was a reality and in order to not make a complete fool of himself, he had to start somewhere.

Picking up his phone, he replied to one of the messages he had been avoiding this morning.

[Text Reply] Misaki: Alright, we can practice. I'll stop by after work.

[Text]: GREAT! Where the hell u been? We shoulda started days ago.  
[Text]: We can show Kamamoto so u can @ least do it 4 some1 b4 the big night

Saruhiko wished Misaki would stop mixing numbers into his words when he texted, and he really wished he would stop referring to it as 'the big night'. It was far too much pressure for Saruhiko to handle. He wasn't a performer.

And that became painfully obvious when he stood in Misaki's living room, frozen as Kamamoto's eyes were on him before the song began. Or well, he thought Kamamoto's eyes were on him, he couldn't tell behind the idiot's damn sunglasses. Him being in the room was more than enough to set off Saruhiko's nerves, even though Kamamoto had presumably heard Saruhiko practicing in Misaki's room simply by proximity. He pursed his lips, opening his mouth, as though he were about to begin, but when the intro ended, he could barely open his mouth.

Misaki had promised him happy memories, but if he couldn't actually make any sound, there weren't going to be any happy memories for the two of them.

"Saruhiko!" Misaki said, slamming his hand down on the button, after it happened for a third time. "What are you doing?"

"I'm sick," he coughed awkwardly, clearly fake. "The sound isn't coming out."

"Bullshit you're sick! What's going on? You've sang for me plenty of times and Kamamoto has heard you a ton of times!" Misaki folded his arms and flopped on the couch next to Kamamoto.

"I told you I'm not a performer," he said.

"Yeah but you also agreed to do this for me!" Misaki jumped up. "I get that you're nervous...but I know how you can sing, I've heard you and I fucking love it! They're all gonna love it too, and even if you fucking hate it, it's barely 5 minutes of your life, it'll be over before you even know it!"

Saruhiko hated that he blushed when Misaki said he loved his singing. It wasn't something he was proud of, or something he wanted to pursue. He wasn't like Misaki, but he did like Misaki, begrudgingly, or less so as of late. If he could make Misaki love something, that was slowly becoming enough to spur him on. He wasn't sure when it had become like that, their relationship, but he didn't hate it.

"And it's not like you're gonna be alone! I'll be there right next to you, or well, behind you, sort of," Misaki said, and Saruhiko hadn't realized the shorter had still been talking.

"Alright, alright. Do it again," he scoffed.

"Right!" Misaki said, standing behind his mixing board as he started up the track again.

This time, Saruhiko sang out, and even behind Kamamoto's sunglasses, he could see his eyes widen. He didn't move much, and Misaki said that was something they'd have to work on, especially since Misaki was often so energetic, but Kamamoto noted the sound was so good, he didn't imagine many people would care if Saruhiko sat like a lump on the edge of the stage as long as he sang like that.

"I didn't expect you to sound like that, even from just hearing you guys through the wall and the recording," Kamamoto noted.

Saruhiko rolled his eyes. "Surprises, I'm full of them apparently." But the person he kept surprising the most was himself.

"See!" Misaki cheered, shutting his laptop. "You're gonna be amazing! Just...move a bit more and you'll be fine!"

More than anything, Saruhiko wanted to believe Misaki was right, just this once.

~~

Misaki had imagined many times what it would be like to actually meet a music producer who was willing to hear him, to give him that one chance he had always assumed he'd needed. And now it had happened and he was going to do a test performance. It didn't feel real.

After he had called Kusanagi to confirm the performance, he woke up every morning and thought about it. Every day he had to remind himself he was in fact going to perform for a real time producer. Mikoto's producer no less.

"Kamamoto. Can you believe tonight...I'm going to do a performance for a real producer!" Misaki cheered.

"I can believe it!" he said, nudging his friend. "C'mon Yata, we've all known how freaking talented you are. It was only a matter of time!"

"I dunno. It still doesn't feel real to me!" he said, glancing at his watch. "Shit!" he cried out, dashing into his room as he dug through the pile of clean clothes on his bed. "I gotta get ready!"

"Uh, Yata," Kamamoto mumbled, peering into his room from the doorway. "You have plenty of time."

"Yeah, but I gotta look perfect!" he said, holding up a shirt.

"Right, I'll get dinner ready." Kamamoto sighed, and left Yata to dig through his clothes.

He wondered what Saruhiko planned on wearing. They had to look professional, but casual, right? What the hell were they supposed to wear? He wasn't any sort of fashion expert, but he also didn't want to look like an idiot.

He blushed thinking about the song once more. The best idea would probably be to go with an outfit that matched their style. Being himself was definitely the best option. The song ran through his mind, Saruhiko's voice ringing in his ears. He couldn't wait for them to hear how amazing Saruhiko was live. If only Saruhiko would believe that. He prayed the idiot would be able to handle it.

Misaki knew he really owed Saruhiko a lot. This was the third or fourth thing he'd convinced Saruhiko to do against his will. "I'll make it up to him, somehow," Misaki muttered under his breath. Briefly, a memory of them making out in the tent flashed through his mind, but he quickly shook the thought away. He couldn't just repay Saruhiko with those kind of favors.

Sighing, he pulled a white hoodie on, smoothing out the flyaway hair which stuck out every which way. He probably was going to wear his beanie like he normally did, and as his heart beat with anticipation, he made his way to the kitchen.

~~

The bar venue was smaller than Misaki expected, but he wasn't upset, in fact, he was relieved. He was used to playing in smaller clubs. The smaller the crowd the easier it would be to get people moving. Bigger crowds were far more intimidating. Though he had to admit, he was surprised Mikoto was playing at a place like this. He knew Kusanagi, Homra's producer owned the place, and it was where the company had gotten it's start, but he was surprised the place wasn't swarming with Mikoto and Totsuka's fans.

"Yata! Good to see you!" Totsuka bounced forward, holding out his hand. "King just got here too! Is your singer here? We're gonna do a quick soundcheck!"

"Not yet," Misaki smiled, staring at Totsuka. He still hadn't gotten over the fact that he was actually going to be an opener for Totsuka and Mikoto, his music heroes.

"That's alright! King and I can go first." Totsuka turned away, waving to the tall, red-haired man who emerged from a backroom. "King! Come say hi."

The man approached slowly, his body swaying back and forth with each casual step he took forward, and Misaki held his breath, watching as the man he'd admired for so long walked closer and closer. He held a cigarette behind his lips, and stopped next to Totsuka. Mikoto was taller than Misaki had realized, it was difficult to gauge that sort of thing when he was just watching someone one a stage.

"Yo. Yata-san, yeah?" he said, pulling the cigarette from between his lips.

"Uh...Y-Yeah! It's such...such an honor to meet you, Mikoto-san!" he said, bowing his head. "I've been a fan of your music for...as long as I can remember!" he yelled.

"Mm," Mikoto smirked, and placed his hand on Misaki's shoulder, giving him a pat. "You're good." And with those few words, he walked with Totsuka to the stage.

Misaki was frozen. Suoh Mikoto had complimented him. Him, and he was going to open for him tonight. His heart was pounding so hard, he thought his chest might explode from the excitement.

"Tsk. Misaki, don't keep your jaw on the floor, it's dirty there."

A familiar voice broke Misaki from his daydream as he turned to face Saruhiko, who was staring at him skeptically. "S-Saruhiko!"

"I think you're drooling," Saruhiko smirked.

"S-Shut up! Do you realize that was Suoh Mikoto! THE Mikoto!" he gasped.

"I realize," Saruhiko replied flatly. He looked annoyed, but then again, when didn't Saruhiko look annoyed. He did, however, look damn good in the outfit he had picked out. Tight jeans and a button up shirt with a unbuttoned gray vest. Misaki pursed his lips, trying to focus on the situation, instead of wanting to kiss Saruhiko.

"Look I get that you don't care, but tonight is a big deal to me!" he snapped, folding his arms.

"I'm here, aren't I?" he muttered, shaking his head. "Let's get ready." Saruhiko brushed by him, heading towards the stage to soundcheck.

Misaki's heart was starting to race. He could guess there probably wouldn't be more than fifty to hundred people in such a small, casual bar, but meeting Mikoto had made him even more nervous. This was Mikoto, Suoh Mikoto. It was his dream to open for such an amazing talent. The man who had inspired him to do this in the first place.

"Misaki? You coming?" Saruhiko asked, bringing Misaki back to the present once again.

"Yeah! Duh! I'm ready. Completely ready!" he said, hopping up onto the small stage. Saruhiko's brow was raised as Misaki walked by him, but the shorter boy chose to ignore him. Saruhiko's attitude problem wasn't going to change Misaki's utter excitement, and it certainly wasn't going to help his nerves. Ignoring it was the far better choice.

Standing behind his laptop, he slipped the headphones over his ears, his head already felt hot, his ears wet with sweat.

"Alright, just do the beginning," Kusanagi called out from next to the stage. "Just a couple lines, we just need to make sure we can hear Fushimi over the music. Fushimi, make sure you sing as loud as you think you can."

Misaki swallowed, he hoped Saruhiko would actually sing out, especially after they had practiced for so long. The music began to swell in his ears, and Saruhiko's cue was about to hit. Of course, there was silence for a moment, Saruhiko coming in late as his sweet voice finally rang out. Misaki's chest deflated, letting out a sigh of relief. There wasn't much of an audience yet, but he hoped Saruhiko would keep his confidence up. He wanted him to come in on time.

"That's great, thanks!" Kusanagi said, waving to them, the song stopping abruptly. "We're going to double check the soundcheck on Mikoto, so hang out in the backroom for thirty or so. We'll call you out when it's time."

"Right," Misaki nodded, stepping off the stage to stand, or pace rather, in the backroom.

"Sit down," Saruhiko grumbled. He'd plopped down onto one of the large red cushion chairs. He folded his legs and arms, looking just as grouchy as he had before.

"I can't!" Misaki said, rubbing his hands through his messy hair. "I'm too nervous! This is Mikoto-san! Mi-ko-to!" he said.

"I know. You've said that. I don't know why it matters so much. You'll be just as good, if not better."

Misaki blushed. Did Saruhiko really think he was better than Mikoto-san? That was ridiculous, there was no way he was. Saruhiko probably just thought that because he didn't know very much about music.

"No way!" he scoffed. "No way will I be better than Mikoto-san!" Misaki jumped up and down a few times, shaking his hair out.

"Fine. You won't be. Can you just sit down?" Saruhiko scoffed. "You're...making me more nervous than I already was."

Misaki froze, and quickly took a seat. He was used to feeling nervous, but Saruhiko was not, and it was imperative that Saruhiko actually sang tonight. "Sorry," he muttered.

The two sat in silence for the remainder of the time, but Misaki kept bouncing his leg up and down quickly, though Saruhiko attempted to stop it by grabbing his thigh every so often, hoping to quell the vibrations.

"We're ready for you!" Kusanagi smiled. "We've got a nice small crowd, so nothing to worry about."

"Right," Misaki nodded, the two boys standing up to make their way to the stage.

"We've got quite the treat for you before King and I do our set," Totsuka smiled. "Introducing the next DJ hit, Yata Misaki and his incredible singer, Fushimi Saruhiko!!" The small crowd clapped, as they walked onto the stage. Misaki was quick to wave, the nervous energy hitting him positively. Kusanagi was right, there was no reason to be nervous, this was _his_ night, best to have fun. Saruhiko kept his gaze forward, as though he could only stare at his goal, the microphone on the stand in front of him.

Standing behind his laptop, Misaki placed the headphones back on his head, though he left one ear open as he picked up the mic on the table in front of him. "Hey everyone!" he smiled. "I'm Yata Misaki and I'm thrilled to be here tonight with Saruhiko for our first live performance of this song. I hope you guys like it!" he smiled. There were a few more claps from the audience, but Misaki didn't wait for them to finish as he turned up the bass on the soundboard.

The familiar tune flowed into his ears, and it was like he forgot where he was. This was _their_ song, his and Saruhiko's, and now they were going to perform it together. That alone was amazing, everything with Mikoto aside, the fact that Saruhiko was actually going to sing live for someone other than him was incredible.

This time, Saruhiko started perfectly on time, the song sounding almost as flawless as it did in the mix track. Misaki smiled, bouncing with the track, his body moving in time with the music. Even Saruhiko seemed to be moving, his hips swaying back and forth, and he even moved his arms a few times, as though he was actually enjoying performing the song. He looked good, damn good. From as far Misaki could tell from behind, Saruhiko's gaze stayed up and out, not looking down once out of fear or nerves.

Misaki couldn't believe it. He'd dreamed about this moment, a time he and Saruhiko would perform live together, and he was opening for Mikoto. It was perfect, the way they moved together on stage, the excitement and passion building within him, like a flame engulfing his every being. And before he could really even take it in, it was over, perfection ringing in the still air.

~~

Saruhiko was shocked sound actually left his lips when the song began. He knew where to sing, he'd done it so many damn times in recording, and in front of Kamamoto and Misaki. It would've been dumb to miss his cue like he had during the soundcheck.

The lights were much brighter now, and though he could make out some of the tables, mostly Saruhiko couldn't see a thing, and the music was so overwhelming, he couldn't bring himself to do anything but sing, and once he did, he realized how much sense it made. His voice belonged in this track. If he hadn't sang, it would've sounded wrong, and empty.

So he sang, loud. His voice didn't sound like his own, his body didn't feel like his own, his hips beginning to sway in time with the music. Behind him, he could feel Misaki's energy pulsating, and he felt him jump up and down a few times. People in the audience were cheering, but Saruhiko could barely hear that, nor did he care. This was something he and Misaki had made together, and they were sharing it together now.

His heart was pounding in his ears, and the rush was incredible, addicting. For a moment, he wondered what it would feel like to do this all the time, for a larger audience, blinded by lights every night. The thought made him a little sick, but it didn't stop him from moving and singing. He didn't hate it, and he hated that he didn't hate it. He despised having a brief moment of understanding why his father had missed this, why his father hated him so much. But mostly, he couldn't stop thinking about Misaki behind him, and he hated how much that affected him and his performance, how excited it made him.

And then it was over, and Saruhiko slowly lowered the mic back onto the stand, his hands trembling. He swallowed, bowing his head toward the now cheering crowd. They were shockingly loud for such a small space, but Saruhiko felt his ears throb from the silence, his ear drums remembering where the music had once been. Misaki ran forward, and hooked his arm around Saruhiko, forcing Saruhiko to bow to the crowd.

"Thank you!" Misaki cheered, waving his hands up and down frantically. "Thank you," he whispered quietly, Saruhiko barely able to hear him, but he knew Misaki was grateful.

The two made their way off the stage and Saruhiko couldn't stop his entire body from shaking.

"Great job boys," Kusanagi said, patting Misaki on the back, as the two headed to the backroom. "Feel free to take a seat at the table in front if you guys want to watch after you've settled down," he smiled, heading towards the stage to introduce Mikoto and Totsuka.

Shutting the door behind them, Saruhiko immediately fell backwards, his back smacking against the door as his lips were met with Misaki's. The shorter was kissing him, his lips trembling against Saruhiko's. "Thank you, Saru, you were amazing!" he yelled, nipping at Saruhiko's lips.

Gripping Misaki's hips, Saruhiko turned him around and pushed him against the door, pressing their lips together once more. He had so much excess energy, and unsure of what to do with it, he took it out on Misaki, kissing him hard. He pressed his tongue into Misaki's panting mouth, pressing their hips tightly together. Misaki moaned, and fought against his tongue, their wet muscles intertwining. Misaki panted, pulling back, his chest heaving.

"D-Damn. We really should...perform more," he said.

Saruhiko rolled his eyes, taking a step back now that he had gathered his thoughts. "Forget it. I said this once was enough."

Frowning, Misaki leaned forward and flicked Saruhiko's shoulder. "C'mon! You're amazing! _That_ was amazing!" he said. "We have to make more songs! Maybe we could get signed and make a whole ALBUM!" Misaki cheered, his flushed face sparkling from joy and sweat.

"Slow down," Saruhiko sighed, wiping his face with a towel. "Why don't you see what Kusanagi says later alright?"

"Fine, fine!" Misaki said, puffing out his cheeks. He tucked his laptop into his bag, and wiped his his brow with his sweatshirt. "But...seriously, Saruhiko, that was...amazing. You were really good. Thanks...I...I really owe you," Misaki mumbled, his face flushing even more from the blush rising to his cheeks.

Saruhiko shook his head. "I'm only as good as you. You made the song, and you can repay me by not asking me to perform again," he snorted. It was a silly lie he was telling himself. He knew he would have a hard time saying no to performing again, especially if Misaki asked him.

"You seemed to be enjoying yourself," Misaki teased, nudging Saruhiko with his shoulder.

"Not likely," Saruhiko grunted, clicking his tongue. "Hey, you're going to miss Mikoto's whole set if you don't hurry," he continued, strategically changing the subject.

"Shit! You're right," he said, grabbing his bag as he rushed out the door to take a seat at the table Kusanagi had set aside for them.

Saruhiko followed, sitting next to Misaki who had proceeded to ignore him completely. He really should've expected that to be the case. Whenever Suoh Mikoto was involved, Misaki was gone, lost to focusing on this supposed musical prodigy. It was so strange to Saruhiko, how much Misaki seemed to idolize the man. He claimed to emulate him, but Mikoto's musical style was so much more boring compared to Misaki, and though it did have passion, it came from a much lazier place. Misaki's music always awoke something within Saruhiko, a kind of dormant energy. Mikoto's music made Saruhiko want to sit and chill out.

But Misaki was always so captured by Mikoto. He hadn't even looked at Saruhiko since they had come out to watch. His eyes were on Mikoto, mouth agape, as though he were watching a king. Saruhiko wondered what it would feel like if Misaki looked at him like that. Overwhelming...probably...

When the set ended, Misaki finally sat back with a sigh. "Man, no one does it as good as Mikoto-san!" he smiled.

The red-haired man bowed with Totsuka, and both of them stepped down off the stage, immediately rushed by a group of fans, all looking to talk to him. Misaki looked a bit disappointed, but sat back with a shrug. "I'll talk to him in a bit," he nodded.

Saruhiko practically jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning around, he was both surprised (and not) to see his boss, Munakata Reisi standing behind him.

"Oya! Fushimi-kun, an amazing performance as expected. It was lovely seeing you up there. You were practically a different person!" Saruhiko's face paled, and he immediately glanced around, waiting to be rushed by the others. Munakata let out a soft chuckle, waving his hand back and forth. "No, no, Fushimi-kun. I came alone. Don't worry, I didn't out your location to the others." Munakata placed as finger over his own lips. "It will be our secret. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to say hello to an old friend."

Saruhiko blinked, watching Munakata make his way towards Kusanagi, smiling as they greeted each other. It was an oddly small world, his boss knew Kusanagi, and Mikoto it seemed. But mostly he was surprised Munakata had actually respected his wishes to keep his performance a private affair. It would be nice to go into work and not be swamped by his co-workers, desperate to get information out of him.

The crowd around Mikoto had finally begun to disperse, so Misaki jumped up. "I'm going to go say thank you to Mikoto-san, and tell him how amazing he was! I'll be right back," Misaki smiled, leaving Saruhiko behind at the table. Shrugging, he rest his chin on his palm and watched as Misaki cheerfully greeted Totsuka and Mikoto. There was a huge smile on Totsuka's face, who gave him a hug, and Misaki's face turned so red, Saruhiko was surprised the shorter boy hadn't fallen over.

"Excuse me, do you mind if I join you for a moment?" A man with dark green hair in a wheelchair rolled up next to his table.

"Uh..." Saruhiko began to refuse, trying to make up an excuse that he was tired after the performance but he couldn't think of anything to say.

"Nagare Hisui," he said, his lips curling into a devilish smile as he pulled out a card and placed it on the table, sliding it towards Saruhiko. "I'm a DJ as well."

"Ah..." Saruhiko muttered, picking the card up off of the table. He had heard Nagare's name before, though he hadn't taken the time to listen to his music. Mostly because he didn't care.

"I enjoy working with a variety of singers on different styles of songs," Nagare explained. "I'd really be interested in collaborating with you if you're interested. Your voice is just what I need for a new track I'm working on."

Saruhiko pursed his lips. He really hadn't meant to make anything of this singing thing. He had begrudgingly sang with Misaki _once_ and that was it. He definitely didn't want to sing with anyone else.

"Thanks, but I'm not actually a singer," he said, tucking Nagare's card into his pocket.

"Oh, but you are," Nagare smirked. "You're very talented. I'd love to have you on at least one of my songs."

"Mmm. Like I said, singing isn't really my thing," Saruhiko muttered.

"Still," Nagare replied. "You have my card. Consider it, if you feel like working for a more...professional DJ." He wheeled himself away, leaving Saruhiko to wrinkle his nose as how damn pretentious Nagare seemed. This was exactly why he had no desire to be in this DJ world.

"Saruhiko!" Misaki called out, plopping back down in his seat. "Were you just talking to Nagare Hisui!? I can't believe he was here!" he said.

Saruhiko shrugged. "He liked my singing."

"Yeah because you're amazing! Fuck, that’s so cool!" Misaki said, running his hands down his face. "And guess what, Mikoto-san and Kusanagi want to meet with us tomorrow! Can you believe it?! You gotta come with me!"

Saruhiko rolled his eyes. Actually he could believe it. Their performance tonight had been amazing, even if he refused to admit it out loud. Of course Misaki was asking him to go with him, Saruhiko wasn't sure why he had expected anything else.

"Fine," he said, deciding not to argue with him. It was easier. "If, and only if, you come home with me tonight," he grinned, loving how quickly Misaki's face heated up.

"Yeah..." he muttered, rubbing his arm. "Yeah I could do that."

"Good," Saruhiko replied. He wanted Misaki to look at him, and only him for the rest of the night.

~~

When Misaki awoke the next morning, Saruhiko had already left for work. He had promised Misaki he would come to the meeting on his lunch break, but he still had to go into work to finish up a few computers.

Yawning, Misaki sat up, the blankets sliding down his bare chest. His face flushed, as he thought about the evening before. Saruhiko had thrown him down on the bed, and then he'd been wrapped up in him for the rest of the night. He panted and moaned, his breath filling the hot air, their hips falling back into the rhythm of each other. It was nice, to be connected to Saruhiko in such a physical way, especially after they had been so connected through his music before.

He sighed, flopping back onto the bed with a large smile on his face. Saruhiko was amazing, they were amazing, and their performance had been even more amazing. The best part was, Mikoto and Kusanagi wanted to meet with him again today. He wanted more than anything to sign with Kusanagi, and keep making music. Make actual money, do actual performances...it sounded amazing. Maybe Saruhiko could sing more and quit his job. Though Misaki wasn't sure if that was something Saruhiko really wanted.

He knew he had to stop pressuring Saruhiko into doing these things he didn't want to, but whenever Saruhiko broke free of the chains he put around himself, it was always so damn beautiful. Misaki loved it, hell, he was starting to think he maybe even loved Saruhiko. Covering his eyes, Misaki ran his hands down his face. Glancing at the clock, he decided it would be better to think about this later, since he had to get ready for this damn meeting

Today was the day he hoped his new career would begin. Grabbing his clothes, he decided to leave early to change at his apartment, figuring it would be easier to look semi-decent with his own wardrobe. Plus, he didn't really want to show up in the exact same outfit he had worn the night before.

"Yata! You were amazing last night!" Kamamoto said, almost immediately as Misaki walked through the front door of their apartment.

"Thanks!" he replied, dashing through the living to his own room. "I have a meeting with Mikoto-san and Kusanagi right now!" he called out.

"You do?! Do you think this could be it?!" Kamamoto asked.

"Yeah! I hope so! They loved what we did last night, so keep your fingers crossed for me!" Tossing off his clothes, he jumped in the shower, getting ready, which didn't take long, since Misaki had so much nervous energy. Dashing back by Kamamoto in a new outfit, he waved and practically ran out the door.

He was thankful when he saw Saruhiko standing outside of the main office building where HOMRA Talent was located.

"Saruhiko!" he called out, waving as he ran up next to him.

"I'm surprised you're on time," Saruhiko teased, glancing at his watch. "I was starting to think maybe you were going to be late to your own meeting."

"Hell no! I wouldn't do anything to screw this meeting up!" he smiled, hitting Saruhiko on the arm. "Thanks for coming."

Saruhiko clicked his tongue. "I didn't want to do anything to possibly ruin your chance," he muttered. "Still, I don't want to be a singer, so I'd rather not...sign anything," he clarified.

Misaki let out a small sigh. He should've expected Saruhiko to say something like that, but there was a small part of Misaki which hoped Saruhiko would change his mind and be his permanent singer.

"Right, well, let's go," Misaki said, leading the way inside.

Once they made it to the 7th floor, they were greeted by Totsuka, smiling brightly. "Hey guys! So happy to see you both made it!" Totsuka said. "You were both so fantastic last night! King was so impressed!" he said, leading them down the hall.

"Was he?!" Misaki said, looking so eager. He couldn't believe Totsuka Tatara was actually saying this to him.

"Mhm!" Totsuka nodded. "We have lots to discuss!" Opening the door, he led them into the room with Mikoto and Kusanagi. Misaki swallowed, wanting to pinch himself. He couldn't believe he was actually here, in this moment. His dreams coming true.

"Yata-san, Fushimi-san, please take a seat!" Kusanagi smiled, gesturing for the two to sit down in the chairs in front of them "We're very happy you're both here. You both performed wonderfully last night," he continued, pulling out a few folders.

"As I said before, we have a lot to discuss!" Totsuka smiled.

"Right," Kusanagi chuckled. "We'd love to bring you on as one of our talent, Yata-san," Kusanagi said, pulling a contract out of one of the folders. "With this, you are required to make a twelve track album. It will include the single you have already released, and we would like to offer Fushimi-san the chance to sing any of the songs he wishes with you. We also want to offer you a collaboration with Mikoto and Totsuka. This, we would sell as your second single," Kusanagi explained. "It would boost your popularity and get your name out there, which is exactly what we want. If the album does well, we can talk about a longer contract for more albums, but for now, this is for your first one."

Misaki glanced at the paper, and then back at Kusanagi and Mikoto, and once more to Saruhiko. In front of him was the contract to actually make an album, a real album. His songs would be heard on the radio, maybe he'd even go on a tour! Plus, he would get the chance to collaborate with Mikoto. He was sure he was dreaming now.

"Really?" he said, speaking finally, though his mouth felt dry and his hands felt clammy.

"Yes, really. Are you interested?" Kusanagi said. "Mikoto has already begun the track you are to collaborate on. He's looking for you to add to it, and perhaps Totsuka and Fushimi could duet for it?"

"Of course I'm interested!" Misaki said, leaning forward in his seat.

"Great! We brought a copy of the track for you to hear so far."

Pulling out his phone, Mikoto placed it on the table. "Here," he said quietly, pushing play. It was softer, and slower than music he normally created. It certainly sounded like something Mikoto would make, and it was definitely something he could work with.

"You want me to...add to this?" he asked, and Mikoto nodded. "Shit..." he cursed. "I'd be so honored!" he said, bowing his head to Mikoto, his heart pounding. He couldn't believe Mikoto actually wrote a song with him in mind!

Next to him however, Saruhiko clicked his tongue. He had been oddly quiet this whole time.

"Fushimi-san?" Totsuka said, still smiling. "You've been very silent. Are you interested in singing with me?"

Biting his lip, Misaki turned towards Saruhiko, nervous he already knew the answer.

~~

Saruhiko wasn't really sure what the fuck was going on, but he hated the song that had come from Mikoto's little device. It was boring and slow, and it had none of the heart Misaki's music usually had. Even if Misaki added to the song, there was no way it would be his regular sound.

But of course the idiot looked incredibly excited about it. It was _Mikoto-san_ and how could Misaki _possibly_ say no to him. He was the definition of selling out.

Clicking his tongue, he glared at Totsuka when he asked him to sing with him. He had explicitly told Misaki he wasn't going to be a singer anymore, really he had just come for moral support, though it really hadn't mattered.

"No, I'm not," he said bluntly. "I already told Misaki I wasn't interested in singing anymore, but I'm especially not interested in singing something that sounds nothing like what Misaki normally does." Standing up, he made his way out of the office. He was done, there was no reason for him to be here. Misaki was going to sign the contract, and he could go back to his regular job. Misaki would probably forget about him completely once he was wrapped up in the whirlwind of his new life.

"I'll talk to him!" he heard Misaki call out behind him, but he kept walking towards the elevator. "Saruhiko! Saruhiko what the hell!?!" he yelled, stopping him before Saruhiko could escape onto the elevator.

"What do you mean what the hell?" Saruhiko asked, folding his arms. "I already told you I wasn't interested in singing more, especially not for a shitty song like that."

"But Saruhiko, Mikoto-san..."

"Fuck," Saruhiko snapped, clenching his fists. "I am so damn tired of hearing about 'Mikoto-san', Misaki! You're good on your own! You don't need his fame to carry you, and I get he's your...idol or whatever, but your sound is yours, and it sounds nothing like his, and I'm not going to sit here and watch you suck his music dick, just so you can do some shitty song with your hero! You can sign the contract, and get your music career without me," he scoffed.

Misaki's eyes were wide as he listened to Saruhiko yell at him, he almost felt bad. He knew this was an important moment for Misaki, but he was so tired of being second to Mikoto. He hadn't wanted the attention from Misaki before, but now that he'd had it and lost it, it didn't feel good.

"This is a _big_ deal for me Saruhiko!" Misaki yelled. "I've been waiting to be noticed by someone, anyone, and the fact that it's Mikoto-san is amazing! Yeah I might be good, but I'm never going to get anywhere if I just keep doing what I'm doing! So stop being an ass, and just...come sing with us!"

Frowning, Saruhiko brushed by him, pushing the button on the elevator. "I already told you, you can do whatever the hell you want. I get it, Mikoto-san is amazing, and you're willing to give up everything to do whatever he wants. That song sucks Misaki, and I'm pretty sure you know it. But you don't need me, you've got them. I'm sure Totsuka can handle singing the whole damn thing," he snorted.

"You're invited to sing with us, Saruhiko! It's not like I'm...replacing you!" Misaki yelled.

Stepping into the elevator, Saruhiko rolled his eyes. "Even if I wanted to sing again, I would want to sing _your_ music, not his. Goodbye Misaki," he growled, pushing the button to close the doors to the elevator.

"Fine! Do whatever the hell you want, I'm tired of trying to work with your difficult ass!" Misaki snapped.

Saruhiko was positive Misaki was still talking as the elevator lowered to the floor, but Saruhiko didn't care. Misaki was going to be perfectly happy without him. He'd made it clear he did not need Saruhiko anymore. Misaki had used him to get exactly where he needed to be, and now he could become a carbon copy of Mikoto. The worst part was, Saruhiko had actually fallen for his stupid ass.

Clenching his fists, he reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out Nagare Hisui's card. He grabbed his phone and input the number, waiting for the DJ to answer.

~~

Storming back into the office, Misaki bit his lip trying not to cry. He couldn't look like an idiot in front of them. Stupid Saruhiko! Of course he was excited to be signing with an actual agency, and of course he was excited to work with Mikoto! So yeah, maybe he didn't _need_ Saruhiko, but he wanted him. Saruhiko was the best person he had collaborated with, even if he was a stubborn shithead.

"Is everything okay?" Kusanagi asked.

Misaki sighed, shaking his head. "Saruhiko really doesn't want to be a singer."

"Eh," Mikoto shrugged. "He's good, but if he doesn't want to, don't force the guy."

"Yeah..." Misaki said quietly. "I won't."

Totsuka placed a hand on Misaki's shoulder. "It's alright! You'll find other great singers for your music. I'd be happy to collaborate with you, and I'm sure other singers would too!"

Smiling, Misaki nodded. He was a good DJ, and he was about to make an amazing album...anyone would be excited to work with him! "Thanks Totsuka!" he smiled. "You're right, we can...find more singers."

"So you're still interested then?" Kusanagi asked, and Misaki nodded, reaching forward to take one of the pens. He grabbed the contract in front of him.

"I'm honored to be a part of your team," he said, bowing his head as he signed his named on the line.

Even without Saruhiko, Misaki was going to make music, and it was going to be amazing. Or that was what he kept telling himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After disappearing for months and months, I finally finished the new chapter!! This story doesn't have many chapters left so I really want to finish, I'm so sorry for keeping people waiting, hopefully you're all still interested! <3 Thank you guys for the support and HUGE thank you to my beta Adriana for reading this over for me!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter finally introduces Nagare into the story which means I can link the final playlist to go with this story!  
> [Nagare's DJ Playlist](https://8tracks.com/emeraldwaves/live-for-the-night-nagare-s-dj-playlist#) (link goes to 8Tracks)  
> 

Misaki tapped at the soundboard, his fingers twitching against the knobs. He still hadn't quite decided how he wanted to add to Mikoto's song, though they had a meeting tomorrow. After Saruhiko had left, they had decided Totsuka would sing the entire song, and while Misaki was ecstatic to be working with him and Mikoto, he was feeling a bit lost without Saruhiko. Stupid idiot.

He had tried to plan out the way he was going to execute his ideas for the song, but every time he thought about anything, it was Saruhiko's voice he heard buried in the track. It was frustrating, especially since he and Saruhiko hadn't talked since the fight in the office.

A week had gone by, and Misaki wasn't sure how to go about texting him. It was usually him who initiated things, which currently was adding to his frustrations. Saruhiko liked him, right? Misaki figured that was a fair assumption based on the activities they had participated in together. Hell, Saruhiko had initiated a few kisses, and he'd been the one to ask Misaki back to his place the other night after the concert.

He let out a large groan, and leaned back in the chair, staring at the ceiling. Idiot Saruhiko. Picking up his phone, Misaki twirled it around in his palm. He probably wouldn't answer even if Misaki did text him.

The fight hadn't made much sense. Saruhiko said he didn't want to sing, but then he got angry when Misaki had agreed to produce a song with Mikoto. He knew how long Misaki had been waiting for an opportunity like this, how much it meant to him. Saruhiko, once again, was the most confusing person Misaki had ever dealt with.

The worst part was how much it was actually affecting him. This moment should've been perfect, everything Misaki wanted and more. Even if Saruhiko didn't want to sing, he could've at least been supportive, or helped or...

Running his hand down his face, Misaki trilled his lips. He supposed Saruhiko didn't owe him anything. If anyone owed, it was Misaki. Saruhiko had done so much for him, and Misaki knew he hadn't done much but bug the guy. Still, he had somehow gotten the impression Saruhiko enjoyed the time they had spent together. Maybe he hadn't.

"Yata-san?" Kamamoto asked, peering inside of Misaki's room.

"Eh? Kamamoto?" he replied, whipping his head around to stare at his roommate.

"You okay? You were making all sorts of weird groaning noises..." Kamamoto muttered.

"Was I?" Misaki blushed, twisting the cord of his headphones around his fingertip.

"Are you stuck on the song again?" he asked, placing the mug full of tea down in front of him.

Misaki nodded. "I am. I feel like it should be easy! I mean I should be freaking thrilled to be writing a song with Mikoto, and it should feel amazing!" Misaki paused, staring at the tea in the mug in front of him.

"But..." Kamamoto asked, urging him to continue.

"But...I feel really stuck. I wish Saruhiko was..." he trailed off, blushing even harder.

"The one singing for you?" Kamamoto finished, deciding to piece things through himself.

"No! I mean, yes! I mean, Totsuka is amazing, and of course I'm so excited to be working with both of them."

"But it doesn't feel the same as when you and Fushimi worked together?" Kamamoto asked, and Misaki shook his head.

Letting out a frustrated groan, he stood up angrily. "I mean who the hell needs that asshole! He was such a fuckin' pain you know?!" Misaki snapped and plopped back down in the chair.

Kamamoto raised an eyebrow at Misaki who rolled his eyes. He hated when Kamamoto somehow knew everything about everything. He normally kept to himself, but when he did have something to say, it always seemed to be...stupidly intuitive. It was worse that the idiot wasn't actually saying anything now.

He ran his finger along the edge of the cup as he puffed out his cheeks. "I have my meeting with Mikoto tomorrow, and we're going to work on tweaking the song," Misaki shrugged. "I know it's going to sound awesome. I mean it's Mikoto-san...and Totsuka. It's just...Saruhiko and I have such a connection."

"Hm. Do you feel like what you're working on has something missing or somethin'?" Kamamoto asked.

Misaki bit his lip. "I guess." He groaned loudly again, and ruffled his hair. "I wish he could've just...said yes or whatever."

"I'm sure whatever you come up with will be awesome! You're always awesome!" he smiled. "Maybe you're thinking about it too much?" Kamamoto suggested.

"Yeah, yeah," Misaki grunted, waving him away. "I gotta get back to it," he mumbled, placing the headphones over his ears. Kamamoto was always stupidly positive about stuff. It was nice sometimes, but occasionally Misaki had nothing to say in response, especially when he had too much to think about.

"Okay, Yata-san," Kamamoto said quietly, closing the door behind him, though Misaki wasn't paying anymore attention to him.

Pursing his lips, he listened to the track once more, and began to make some tweaks and additions. Maybe he _was_ thinking about it too much. Normally when he wrote music he had fun with it, or was inspired by something. However, even though Mikoto was the one who had gotten him so hype about music in general, he was struggling. Maybe he was too nervous? If Saruhiko had been here, it would've been a hell of a lot easier to write something with his voice.

He paused, tapping his keyboard as he went back and listened to their first, and now only, track together. Saruhiko's voice was so smooth, sexy even, though that thought did make Misaki blush. Misaki sighed. It had been perfect.

Pausing the track, he moved back to the new one, once again imagining how Saruhiko would sound on it. Though he supposed that wasn't all that bad. If he could hear Saruhiko on it, he could write it as though he had Saruhiko in mind, and then someone else would sing it. Nodding once to himself, he felt determination flow through his veins as he began to listen once again. He didn't need Saruhiko to be good. If Saruhiko really hated doing music so much, Misaki would move on without him.

~~

"We're thrilled to have you here." Hisui Nagare's smile was unnerving for a reason Saruhiko couldn't quite put his finger on.

"Mmm Nagare-san couldn't stop speaking of you after he saw you perform." An older man spoke up, and Saruhiko quirked his eyebrow, confused by who this man was supposed to be.

"Ah, meet my manager, Iwafune-san," Nagare said, nodding his head towards the older man.

"Yes, nice to meet you, Fushimi Saruhiko," he said, bowing his head. "I am looking forward to seeing what you can do. Of course, Yukari-san is not going to be very happy to find out you've replaced him," Iwafune chided, though Nagare simply shrugged, wheeling himself to the mixing board.

"Yukari-san will survive just fine. Plenty of DJs work with different vocalists," Nagare scoffed. "You know I'm always looking to change my sound. I want my sound to mold and change with the times and myself. I've grown as a musician, and I will still be using Yukari-san for this upcoming album. However, Fushimi-san is incredibly talented, and I would like to use him for this song," he scoffed.

"Of course, of course," Iwafune chuckled, waving his hand back and forth. "We're always looking for new talent, but Yukari does get quite defensive," he said. Both men laughed this time, and Saruhiko rolled his eyes.

He was anxious to get on with the recording. Saruhiko still wasn't completely comfortable with singing in front of others, and as much as he hated to admit it, this was the first time he'd be doing something like this without Misaki.

Perhaps in his anger he had been far too hasty. He'd called Nagare on a whim, wanting to frustrate Misaki, and what better way to do so than to record with a rival DJ. His plan had been genius, until he realized he'd actually have to record in front of someone else. He could barely sing in front of Misaki, and he'd only been able to perform at that concert because he'd felt Misaki's radiating energy behind him. Could he really do something like this without him?

Saruhiko wasn't a musician, and had never wanted to do all the things Misaki had made him do, but the truth was he'd enjoyed it. Enjoyed everything he'd done with Misaki, no matter how reluctant he had been about it. But part of the reason he had come to enjoy the experience was because Misaki had always been there. The whole journey Misaki had been there. He'd held his hand, leading him through the confusing emotions singing had brought up for him. He'd pushed Saruhiko's back, even when he had dug his heels in, and Misaki had always loved what Saruhiko did.

But then Misaki had ruined it. Saruhiko should've expected something like this to happen. As amazing as Misaki had been for him these past few months, Saruhiko knew he should never have expected it to stick around. Happiness, contentment, they were emotions which often were fleeting around Saruhiko. _That's_ what Saruhiko should've expected, Misaki never would've lasted.

Though Saruhiko supposed Misaki hadn't exactly tossed him aside completely. He had asked him to help with that shitty song, something Saruhiko wanted nothing to do with. Beside, it had been smarter to leave now, before Misaki kicked him to the curb. It would only be a matter of time. Mikoto had noticed Misaki, which in the end, was all Misaki had wanted, Saruhiko decided.

Misaki had dreams, and he wanted nothing more than to be famous for his music. He was so hungry for success, he was willing to give up the sound which had made him so unique. A sound which Saruhiko had fallen in love with, a sound which had brought him and Misaki together. That was the kind of music Saruhiko wanted to sing—Misaki's, the sound which had made him feel confident and happy, if only for a moment.

How could Misaki have thrown all that away? Just for the chance to sing with his stupid idol? Saruhiko couldn't comprehend it, no other person had mattered so much to him. The only person who had even come close was Misaki himself, and Saruhiko couldn't watch as Misaki threw away everything Saruhiko had loved about him, simply to please that idiot Suoh Mikoto.

Frowning, Saruhiko folded his arms, trying to focus on the conversation happening between Nagare and Iwafune. They were still going on about this Yukari guy, and Saruhiko had no desire to insert himself into the talk. However, he wanted to stop thinking about Misaki. The whole point of this was to forget Misaki, move on without him, and possibly get back at him a little in the process.

"Alright," Nagare said, smiling Saruhiko's way. "I'm sure we've bored you enough with this talk of people you nothing of. Let's get you in the booth and get you set up?"

"Right," Saruhiko said, pushing himself out of the chair.

Iwafune held the door open, following Saruhiko inside as he began to adjust the mic to Saruhiko's height. He handed Saruhiko a pair of headphones, and stepped out of the booth, closing the door behind him.

Saruhiko took a deep breath, the padded walls feeling as though they were constricting around him. The booth was tiny, but it felt as though it was getting smaller and smaller the longer he let his thoughts race. Why had he done this? He should've stuck with his original plan, and never sang again. Never before had he so desperately wished to be at his stupid desk at his stupid computer job. He even missed some of the idiots who bugged him on a regular basis.

The truth was, he'd wanted to sing again, but he also hadn't wanted to do so without Misaki, and glancing at Nagare through the tiny glass window only made him more anxious.

And yet, that fact made him angry, and a battle began to rage in his thoughts. Misaki had no problem making music without him. He could imagine Misaki was probably sitting around right now, working on the song with Mikoto excitedly, being all proud of working with his idol, even if it was a shit song. So really, Saruhiko should have no problem doing this. He'd done it before, he'd moved past his fear. Even without Misaki, he could do this, even if it felt so damn _wrong._

"Alright Fushimi-san!" Nagare's voice boomed in the headphones, and Saruhiko's body twitched, shocked out of his thoughts. "We're going to play you the song, and you can listen to it a few times. I've got my voice in there right now temporarily, so sing along with me, and when you feel you're ready we'll play with things. You can change whatever you like, complete musical freedom is yours," Nagare smiled.

Saruhiko simply nodded, listening as the song began to play in his headphones. Nagare wasn't a terrible singer himself, and the song was interesting. Saruhiko could recall Misaki talking about Nagare's music style, saying it was a more intense style of dance music, closer to dubstep. At the time, Saruhiko hadn't really understood what Misaki had meant, but listening now, he could get an idea. The sound was completely different from Misaki's. It was heavy, and full of a mesh of beats and tempos. There were moments where the song picked up, as though it was building to something, but instead slowed down. The electronic sounds were almost overwhelming, and it was certainly...unique, and Saruhiko wasn't sure if it was a song he would listen to, or even like.

But he wasn't doing this because he liked Nagare's music.

The song played on repeat a few more times, Saruhiko awkwardly working to pick up the changing rhythms.

"Do you have any thoughts, Fushimi-san?" Nagare asked, after Saruhiko asked to listen to the track once more.

"...It has a lot of unique...rhythms," Saruhiko muttered into the mic, not wanting to insult Nagare. His plan wouldn't work if the man kicked him out of the booth before he even sang a note.

"Good," he said. "Does it feel uncomfortable?" he asked, and Saruhiko met his gaze. His eyes held a playfulness Saruhiko didn't quite understand, must be some sort of musician quirk. He'd seen something similar in Misaki's gaze many times, but Misaki had always seemed more pure, and excited. Nagare on the other hand, looked positively pleased by his discovery of this 'unique' music style.

"...Yes," Saruhiko said bluntly.

"Good!" Nagare repeated. "As I mentioned before, I want to shape and mold the music world. Bring us into a new era of music, and I believe these kinds of tracks will do that. Art isn't supposed to be repetitive and comfortable," he explained.

Saruhiko couldn't exactly argue with that, thinking back on how much he'd hated Mikoto's repetitive, boring song.

"Do you want to try something?" Nagare asked. "No rush, you can have as much time as you please."

Staring at the lyrics in front of him, Saruhiko pursed his lips. The moment he started to sing, there was no going back from this plan. Misaki would eventually hear this song, and he'd know what Saruhiko had done.

He thought momentarily about Mikoto's song again, and he knew he'd be hearing that too, just as much as Misaki would hear this one.

"I'll try," Saruhiko replied.

"Marvelous," Nagare said. "I'll be cutting out my vocals and you can do as you please."

Saruhiko heard the music start up again, and he waited for his cue, knowing he'd have to start. Nagare had already heard him sing at the concert, which is why he was here in the first place, so Saruhiko knew he'd have to get over his fear.

He opened his mouth, letting his mind go blank as Nagare's strange lyrics flowed from his voice. Singing through the song became almost a trance as he added runs and improvisations Nagare hadn't included. He didn't love how he sounded, but he kept going, wanting to push through the track. He kept his mind focused, staring at the page in front of him, and when the song ended, Saruhiko blinked, forgetting he had been singing at all.

Clapping came from the other side of the booth, snapping Saruhiko from his daze. Glancing out the window, he saw both Iwafune and Nagare clapping their hands excitedly. "That was absolutely perfect, Fushimi-san. I knew you'd be the best pick for this song," he smirked.

"...Thanks..." Saruhiko replied.

"It was brilliant! I want to do a few pick ups, maybe have you sing through it a few more times so we have different takes to work with. How does that sound?" Nagare asked.

"Right. Sure," Saruhiko said. It certainly hadn't felt brilliant. When he had sang with Misaki it had ignited a flame inside his blood, a rush he couldn't replicate with this type of song even if he had wanted to. His singing felt flat, emotionless, as though he were singing above the track, not in it, letting the sound wash over his body completely.

He wasn't sure why he had expected it to be the same. Nagare was nothing like Misaki, nothing at all, and it wasn't as though Saruhiko had actually agreed to this because he wanted to sing. His actions had been completely spiteful.

"Let's continue, we'll start from the top," Nagare said, turning the music on once again.

Even as regret began to settle into his chest, Saruhiko knew there was no turning back now.

~~

"Alright team, tell me you've got something," Kusanagi stated. "I'm bumping up this single's release date by a week."

A week? Misaki felt his face pale. His part of the song was finished, or so he thought. He had yet to play it for the Homra group, but Kamamoto had said it felt finished to him, and Misaki was happy with the final product. However, he had no idea if Mikoto and the others would approve what he had done.

"A week?" Totsuka said, speaking Misaki's thoughts out loud. He tilted his head in confusion, tapping his fingers on the table. "But we haven't even recorded the song yet Izumo~" Totsuka whined.

"Mm why?" Mikoto grunted, his expression staying the same, though Misaki felt a hint of annoyance coming from his aura.

"I heard Nagare plans on releasing a new track, something unique and crazy."

"Nothing new..." Mikoto grumbled.

"That's the thing though, if it _is_ something new that gains traction with fans...it could be a problem for our track. Right now, more relaxed dance music is in style thanks to you Mikoto," Kusanagi explained. "The last thing we want is Nagare's erupting electrical style to take over. I doubt you want to make music like that, Mikoto."

The red haired male let out a long sigh, closing his eyes.

"Exactly. So, Yata-san, show us what you got."

Misaki swallowed, and quickly nodded, placing his laptop on the table. "I had...a few ideas to add to the track, as well as the lines where Totsuka-san would sing," Misaki said. "I hope you guys uh...like it."

"Stop being so nervous," Mikoto said, placing a hand on Misaki's shoulder. "We wouldn't have given it to ya' if we thought you'd suck."

Blushing, Misaki glanced at Mikoto's hand on his shoulder. "R-Right.." he nodded his head quickly, his hat falling down over his eyes. Clearing his throat, he pushed it back and opened his laptop, pushing play on the track.

He kept his eyes down, staring at the specks on the table, trying his best to focus on anything but their faces. He couldn't look at their reactions, he was far too terrified.

"Hm," Mikoto grunted, and Misaki jerked his head around to stare at the noise. He was nodding his head up and down ever so slightly.

"Wow..." Totsuka whispered as the end of the track faded out. "That...was awesome!" he cheered.

"You made it better," Mikoto said flatly.

"R-Really?!" Misaki said, standing up as he slammed his hands on the desk. Blushing, he slowly lowered himself back into the chair. "S-Sorry...I'm just happy you like it. I, uh, spent a lot of time perfecting it, I didn't want to ruin what you already had."

"You made it better," Mikoto repeated, nodding his head again.

"You did!" Totsuka said leaning forward. "I am so excited to be singing this song! Your friend is really missing out," he teased.

Misaki froze. "R-Right..." he chuckled awkwardly.

Saruhiko was missing out. This was supposed to be an amazing experience for both of them, for all of them. As much as he had struggled through the song thinking about Saruhiko, Misaki was still a little shocked Saruhiko had completely abandoned him like that. He could imagine Saruhiko sitting at his computer desk, looking grouchy, working on new tech stuff Misaki didn't understand at all. He could've been here, they should've both been here together, but Saruhiko was so damn stubborn. Misaki really had hoped Saruhiko would change his mind and sing with him. He'd come so far, overcoming all the frustrations he'd felt with music, but in the end, he'd gone back to his boring old job. Swallowing, he let the air empty out of his lungs, he'd promised himself he wouldn't waste anymore time worrying about Saruhiko. He'd been the ass, not Misaki...it was Saruhiko's fault he wasn't here.

"Fantastic! Let's get you guys over to the studio then!" Kusanagi said, clapping his hands together.

"Eh? Right now?" Misaki asked, glancing at Totsuka and Mikoto, both looking completely un-phased.

"Yes, right now. Do you have other plans?" Kusanagi asked, raising his eyebrow, as he turned to head out of the office, quickly followed by Mikoto.

Misaki quickly shook his head, standing up immediately to follow after them. "Don't worry," Totsuka chuckled, placing his hand on Misaki's shoulder. "They do this," he said. "Kusanagi is very...prepared. He usually likes what King does, so he sets up recording sessions early. And King just goes with the flow."

"Yeah, I'm...slowly catching on," Misaki chuckled.

They arrived at the studio barely 15 minutes later, and Totsuka was quick to hop in the booth. It was such a contrast to Saruhiko who Misaki had to practically pushed into the booth, desperate for him to just sing.

"So...how do you guys go about doing this?" Misaki asked, taking his seat next to Mikoto in front of the soundboard.

"Just leave it to Tatara," Mikoto said waving his hand. "I make the music, he makes the vocals. Don't worry."

Winking, Totsuka leaned over, giving them a thumbs up through the glass window which peered into the booth.

"Yeah, okay," Misaki nodded.

"He's...excited," Mikoto said, a small chuckle escaping his lips for a moment. "He usually gets like this about recording new shit," Mikoto snorted.

"That's...cool he's so passionate about your music though," Misaki said quietly.

"Mmm..." Mikoto glanced towards him. "Yeah. It's good to find a singer who can bring your music to life, _and_ is excited about it."

Biting down on his lip, Misaki nodded. "Yeah, it always feels really good to have a singer who fits your stuff really well."

"Yeah. Don't worry Tatara is gonna sound great," Mikoto said, keeping his gaze fixated on the excited blond in the booth.

"O-Oh! I know...Uh...sorry, I wasn't trying to make it seem like Totsuka-san would do a bad job! He's incredible...one of the best singers I know! I'm...I'm so lucky to get to collab with him!"

"Yata...I know," Mikoto snorted, raising an eyebrow at him. "But I can tell you miss your friend. Talk to him again."

"What?! No way! This is the best opportunity I've had and Saruhiko gave it up! He's the one who walked away from me. If anyone is going to talk to anyone, he's gotta talk to me!" Misaki snapped.

"Alright," Mikoto shrugged.

Slouching down in his chair, Misaki sighed. He was such an idiot, getting all worked up about Saruhiko like that in front of Mikoto. How uncool! Though, looking at Mikoto, he didn't look too upset, actually he didn't look like he cared at all.

They had Totsuka listen to the track a few times, only two, before he was ready to try something. Totsuka's voice was pure, clean and bubbly, sounding excited and smooth over the track. It was a nice sound, and it was actually better than Misaki had expected it to be. He loved Totsuka's voice, but no matter how hard he had tried, he'd imagined Saruhiko's voice when he had been working on the lyrics. Still, listening to Totsuka now, Misaki did like how he sounded. It added to the meshing of both his and Mikoto's styles.

"That was great Tatara," Mikoto said. "Let's go again."

"Amazing!" Misaki cheered, giving him the thumbs up. It was incredible watching how fast Totsuka worked, and Misaki assumed this was how actual professional singers did things. Totsuka was so comfortable behind the mic, it looked as though everything in the booth, everything in the song belonged to him and only him. Admittedly, it was nice not having to push and fight with his singer to actual sing.

And yet...

Misaki stared into the booth, watching Totsuka sing with such beautiful passion over the track. It should've been perfect, it should've been everything he'd dreamed of. Misaki had been waiting for this moment for so long, collaborating with the two people he respected the most in this industry.

And yet...

The ghost of Saruhiko's voice in the track haunted Misaki. It had never been there of course, but Misaki felt like it had, and though Totsuka's voice was beautiful and full of emotion, Misaki missed how raw Saruhiko's vocals were, how unpolished everything was about him.

"Perfect," Kusanagi says. "You guys are going to blow Nagare's track out of the water," he chuckled, listening to a rough playback of Totsuka's vocals over the song.

"Of course we are!" Misaki cheered. Kusanagi was right. Totsuka sounded amazing, and the song sounded amazing. Yata Misaki had collaborated with Totsuka Tatara and Suoh Mikoto, and it was a dream come true. Actually he was kind of tempted to pinch himself to make sure this had actually happened. There was no point in focusing on stupid Saruhiko, not when he was experiencing one of the greatest moments of his life!

~~

Saruhiko had never felt so damn relieved to sit at his desk that Monday. He'd been gone for a few days due to the recording and the concert, and he was so happy that finally, finally things were back to normal.

Quiet. But normal.

And really...wasn't quiet what he wanted?

He glanced at his phone, the screen black and unchanging. He tapped the button on the screen, making it light up with the time. No new messages. He wasn't sure why he expected anything. Nagare had no reason to contact him, and Misaki sure as hell wasn't going to after the damn fight they'd had.

Minus Munakata, none of his coworkers had come to the concert either, so none of them were bugging him about it, or trying to get details, and it was...nice. He didn't want attention from them or anyone for that matter.

"Ah, good morning Fushimi-kun!" Of course his silence was extremely short lived.

"Mmm..." he grunted, keeping his face glued to the screen. Since Munakata had been quiet about going to the concert, Saruhiko could only hope he'd stay that way, especially around the others at work. There was a tiny itch Saruhiko had, wanting to ask Munakata how exactly he knew Suoh Mikoto, but he didn't want to talk about that guy, nor did he want to bring up stuff with the concert.

"Do you think you could join me in my office for a moment? I have something I'd like to discuss with you," Munakata said with a smile.

"...can it wait?" Saruhiko grunted. "I'm kind of in the middle of something."

"Are you?" Munakata smiled, peering over the cubicle. "It looks to me as if you're simply staring at your home screen currently."

Flaring his nostrils, Saruhiko let out a huff of breath. "Fine," he growled. "I'll be there in a minute."

"Marvelous!" Munakata said, and left him there.

Saruhiko groaned. What the hell could Munakata possibly want to talk about? Sure, he'd taken a few more days off than normal recently, but he rarely took days off, and it wasn't as though he was behind in his work. Everything he'd been doing recently had been on time, and well done, which was more than he could say for people like Hidaka and Doumyouji.

Flicking his computer screen off, he made his way to Munakata's office, knocking once before he entered.

"Good to see you today, Fushimi-kun. The office misses you when you're not here," Munakata said, leaning forward in his chair to rest his head on his hands.

Saruhiko clicked his tongue. He was certain they didn't miss him so much as they missed him picking up their slack and getting extra work done when he stayed later than all of them. "I'm sure," he mumbled.

"I am being serious," Munakata said. "Doumyouji-kun and Hidaka-kun are quite lost without you, and Akiyama-kun, my most proficient worker besides you seems to be slacking without you around as much."

"Sir," Saruhiko began, his eyebrow twitching. "Frankly, I don't see how this is my problem."

"Oh, it is not, I assure you. I simply wanted you to know how...well-liked you are here. This being said, I wanted to speak to you about your future at this company."

"My future?" Saruhiko retorted quickly.

"Yes, your future. As you now know, I am...somewhat close with Suoh Mikoto. A story for another day perhaps," Munakata began, and Saruhiko was damn grateful Munakata had decided to save his breath. "Anyway, I was told you turned down the chance to collaborate with him and your friend, Yata Misaki was it?" Munakata inquired. "I was...curious as to why."

Saruhiko's eyebrow twitched again. How the hell did Munakata find this shit out? Sure, he was friends with Suoh Mikoto, but then again, this was so like him, sticking his nose into Saruhiko's business when it didn't actually belong there.

"What does this have to do with my future here at this company?" Saruhiko grunted.

Munakata chuckled. "I suppose it doesn't affect much if you keep rejecting these opportunities. But I was surprised to hear you had. With your singing voice, Fushimi-kun, I'm sure collaborating with Yata-kun more would be quite good for you."

Clicking his tongue louder, it took every restraint Saruhiko had to not snap at Munakata for not minding his own business.

"I thought perhaps you'd prefer to pursue singing as a career, instead of working here. You're very intelligent, and losing you as an employee would be a blow to us of course. However, Fushimi-kun...I do know you quite well at this point, and I don't wish for you to feel obligated to stay."

Blinking, Saruhiko stared at Munakata for a moment, trying to process his thoughts. Munakata wasn't exactly wrong. Saruhiko did owe his adult life to Munakata. Without this job, without Munakata, he never would've been able to afford living on his own. And admittedly, he didn't hate the job. The people were frustrating sure, but fixing computers was interesting, and challenging every so often. He'd never really thought about how his life would be if he wasn't doing this. He'd never thought he would ever consider leaving. He liked where he was, and before Misaki came and threw off all of his plans, he'd never imagine doing anything else.

None of it mattered however. Munakata was wrong. He didn't imagine himself as a singer, and he'd said no to any further collaborations with Misaki, and he wasn't ever going to work with Nagare again either. He was done with singing, it was over.

"Mmm," Saruhiko grunted. "I won't be doing anymore singing anytime soon. I didn't reject the opportunity because of this job," he mumbled.

"I didn't think so," Munakata chuckled. "It's not my business to ask any more details, but I know you and Yata-kun had a fight." Munakata paused, but Saruhiko said nothing in response, staying silent. There was no point in talking about this anymore, Saruhiko decided. He wasn't going to sing, Misaki was off enjoying his new life as signed DJ, and Saruhiko simply wanted to fade into an unknown existence again.

"Well," Munakata sighed. "I won't keep you from your work," he said, and Saruhiko bowed his head, turning to leave. "But one more thing, Fushimi-kun," Munakata began, freezing Saruhiko at the entrance to the door. "Seeing you perform the other night...it was as though I finally saw you truly _living_. With Yata-kun, it seems you can do anything, or that was the sense I got from your singing," he said. "I would hate to see you lose that look in your eyes because of a silly fight."

Clenching his fist around the door handle, Saruhiko swung the door open and stormed away. What the hell did Munakata know anyway? He'd only known him for a few years, he didn't know how singing with Misaki made Saruhiko feel, he didn't know how Saruhiko felt about Misaki in general, how frustrating the idiot was. So what if he looked amazing and 'alive' while singing. It was a fluke, a one time thing...it wasn't going to happen ever again, especially not while Misaki was off following Mikoto like a lovesick puppy.

No, Saruhiko had made his choice.

~~

It wasn't long before blogs and radio stations had begun talking Nagare's announcement for his new track. It hadn't come long after Misaki and Mikoto had recorded theirs, but Kusanagi had made the final decision to hold off on posting their new single until around when Nagare's came out. The plan was to release it before however, and Misaki was anxious to hear the final product, and crowd reaction. Most people loved what Mikoto did, but who knew if they'd like the addition of him.

For now, Misaki was focusing on his other songs for his upcoming album. He had recorded a second with Totsuka, and though it had turned out amazingly, Misaki would occasionally feel the slight pang of longing for Saruhiko's amazing voice.

He'd made a promise with himself to stop being down about it after the recording session with Mikoto and Totsuka. Ultimately Misaki was happy. Sometimes his brain would be filled with thoughts of how things were with Saruhiko. It would've been better with Saruhiko, he often would think, but would quickly try and shake the idea from his head.

This was his dream, being signed with Homra was going to be amazing, and he could only hope to continue collaborating with Mikoto in the future. There had already been discussion of a tour with him once both of their new albums were released, then they could play their duet together as well. As long as the sales were up, it was basically guaranteed. Touring with Mikoto was a dream come true, actually everything lately had felt like a dream come true.

Still, Saruhiko missing was a hard slap of reality. Misaki was too stubborn to call him or text him, but he kept checking his phone to see if Saruhiko maybe would, even though he knew damn well Saruhiko would never. It sucked. They had been so close...to something. He'd just started to think that maybe...he loved the asshole. What a fool he'd been. One stupid fight had ruined it all, why the hell had Saruhiko not been more understanding!? Misaki groaned every time he thought about it. It was growing more and more frustrating and Misaki hated how often he felt down thinking about it.

The real problem was, Misaki missed Saruhiko. Missed his voice, missed collaborating with him. And more than his voice, Misaki missed Saruhiko. He missed Saruhiko's grouchy attitude, and he missed getting to bug him through texts all the time, and he missed getting to kiss him, and touch him...even though they had only done that a few times, Misaki had really really wanted to do it more. Usually, it was too much to even think about it.

"How did it go?" Kamamoto asked, when Misaki walked in from his session with Totsuka.

"It was good," Misaki said, tossing his backpack on the floor and plopping on the couch next to Kamamoto.

"Just good? You were recording with Totsuka today right?" he said.

"Yeah it was awesome!" he chuckled, leaning back with his arms against the couch.

"That sounds more like the Misaki I know," Kamamoto said, nudging his side.

"Shaddup! I'm still not used to this."

"What? Getting to work with your music heroes?" Kamamoto teased.

"Yeah! Exactly! It's just a little surreal you know?" Misaki said. "Plus...I'm still having that problem where I hear dumbass Saruhiko's voice on everything I do! It...kind of throws me off when I hear Totsuka sing them."

"Really?" Kamamoto said, looking shocked. "Isn't Totsuka really good though?"

"Yeah..." Misaki muttered. "I mean he's _amazing_! I love his voice, especially on Mikoto's stuff, they just...mesh so well you know?!"

"Well, they're dating right? I know there's been rumors about it..." Kamamoto said.

"WHAT?!" Misaki yelled. "They are!?"

"Eh!?" Kamamoto blinked. "I figured for sure you'd know since you've been around them in person unlike most of the tabloid writers..."

"I had...no idea..." Misaki blinked. "But I guess that does make sense...As to why they mesh so well." Blushing, Misaki thought of how good Saruhiko sounded on his song, and how it had led to other things between them.

"So you feel like Totsuka isn't right for your songs then?" Kamamoto asked.

Misaki shook his head. "No, he's still amazing. His voice is incredible, and I actually can't believe _the_ Totsuka Tatara is singing on one of my songs. But you know when you have a certain sound in your head...and you just...can't get it out. That keeps happening..." Misaki muttered, standing up to head to the kitchen for water.

"Hmm. You gotta do something to forget about that guy," Kamamoto said, leaning on the arm of the couch. "Maybe imagine Totsuka singing your stuff when you're working on it."

"I've been trying that!" Misaki moaned. "It's just...not working so well."

"I'm sure you'll figure it out. You always do!" Kamamoto cheered.

"I gotta!" Misaki said, filling up a cup with some water. "I mean I gotta make this album good you know? It's my first one!"

"Yata-san, no matter what you do, your album is gonna be freaking awesome!" Kamamoto chuckled.

"Maybe..." he sighed, sitting back down on the couch, and kicking his legs onto the table in front of them.

"Oh! You know what I heard, Nagare's single is going to be previewed tonight on the radio in...5 minutes!" Kamamoto said glancing at his watch.

"WHAT?!" Misaki said, slamming the cup on the table. "We wanted to release our single first! Shit! Kusanagi is going to be mad."

"Well it's just a preview...not everyone will hear it," Kamamoto said. "It's not like it's going online."

"Argh! Still!" Misaki growled, dashing into his room. He dug through his drawers looking for his old portable radio. Frantically tossing clothes and trash around, he finally found it on a shelf near his closet.

He ran back to the living room, placing it on the table as he tuned it to the 'Hits' station.

"Dammit!" Misaki cursed again. "I can't believe this!"

"You can still release it first," Kamamoto said. "Sorry I didn't realize this was such a big deal."

"Of course it is!" Misaki snapped. "We don't wanna be competing with Nagare's new sound. Whatever it is..." he grumbled.

His heart pounded as he heard the radio announcer talk about Nagare's new single, and how unique and interesting it was. Misaki normally loved his music, and any other time he probably would've been thrilled to hear a new track by him, but for now he was a complete ball of anxiety. What would it sound like? Would it be good? Would it be better than his and Mikoto's song?! Would their song flop which would cause Misaki's album to flop, and then he wouldn't get to go on tour and lose his signing?!

"And now! We're happy to bring you a preview of Nagare's new song, featuring up and coming singer, Fushimi Saruhiko."

Misaki froze, all thoughts of failure slipping from his mind. "..." Picking up the tiny radio, he turned to Kamamoto, whose face looked confused, his brow furrowed. "What the hell did it just say?!"

"I-I dunno!" Kamamoto choked out.

"Did it...did it say...did it...Saruhiko?" Misaki felt his mouth run dry, and he stared at the device in front of him. There was no way to rewind, so as the song began, all he could do was wait and listen. The song seemed to play in slow motion, each beat felt painful as his head began to throb. He couldn't focus on what the song sounded like.

Had Saruhiko sang with someone else? There was no way. Saruhiko could barely sing for him...let alone anyone else...

The first line came in, and Misaki felt his heart flutter, and then immediately sink. He knew that tone so well.

Saruhiko was singing on a song Hisui Nagare had written.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry not sorry for all my cliffhangers LOL! There aren't too many chapters left in this, and my goal is to finish before July which is when I started this fic a year ago. This fic will be my main focus now, so hopefully updates will come faster, thank you to everyone who has been so so so patient with me <3 And thank you to Adriana for being amazing and editing this for me!!


	12. Chapter 12

"What the HELL is this?!"

Saruhiko jolted back against his seat the moment he heard Misaki's familiar yell echo throughout the hallway of his office. He probably should've expected this, Misaki knew where Saruhiko worked and where he lived, it was only natural he would show up to whichever place Saruhiko was at, depending on the time of day. Saruhiko had come to notice Misaki was impulsive, and reckless, so this behavior wasn't exactly out of the ordinary. Plus it wasn't like he had never done this before, Saruhiko thought, reminded of the many times he'd snuck upstairs to see Saruhiko at his desk.

But instead of answering, or turning around like he normally did, Saruhiko simply stared at his computer screen. He wasn't about to answer Misaki and start a fight in his office.

"What the hell Saruhiko, don't ignore me!" Misaki said, grabbing the back of Saruhiko's chair, attempting to turn him around, though the taller dug his feet in, not letting the chair move. "Stop...being so damn...stubborn...Saruhiko...you ass!" he grunted, tugging on the chair to get it to move.

Lifting his feet, Saruhiko let the chair swing around, Misaki falling backwards as he did. "Who let him in here?" Saruhiko called out, glancing around as Hidaka sank further into his chair, and Akiyama didn't move.

"Saru, you bastard!" Misaki snarled, stumbling forward as he grabbed his shirt, holding his phone up with the track he'd recorded with Nagare on the screen. "Answer me, what the hell is this?!"

"A phone," he stated bluntly, and watched as Misaki knuckles turned white as he clenched at the screen harder than before.

_'Good'_

"No," he hissed, the air coming from his lungs in shaky waves. "Idiot. You know what I meant!"

_'Does it hurt? Does it make you angry?'_

"Oh I'm the idiot, am I?" Saruhiko snorted and yanked Misaki's wrist from his shirt. "I'm not the one shoving a phone in my face begging to know what it is."

"I mean the song, you shithead!" People were staring now, or they were trying not to, but Saruhiko could see their eyes focusing on the scene in front of them. Misaki wasn't exactly quiet about his anger, or anything for that matter. "The song you sang with Nagare!"

"I KNEW it was you!" Hidaka said, standing up, but quickly returning to his seat when he noticed Saruhiko's eyebrow twitch in anger. "I told you..." A small whisper was heard as Hidaka turned away, Saruhiko immediately ignoring his coworkers.

"So you heard it I take it," he said, plopping back down in the chair.

"Of course I heard it you damn traitor!" Misaki yelled.

"Traitor? I don't recall signing any sort of contract with you," Saruhiko scoffed, folding his arms. "In fact, I seem to recall leaving and doing the exact opposite."

"What...the hell...Saru!?" Misaki growled again. "I...You...You refuse to sing with me, but you have no problem going to sing with Nagare?! You know he's my rival right now?! Me and Mikoto's song is going up against yours!" he growled.

"Is it?" Saruhiko hummed. "I had no idea." His voice was flat, uncaring.

"Fuck you, Saruhiko. Fuck. You. I was practically begging you to stay with us and sing with us. You know how much I enjoyed having you on my other song, why didn't you stay with us?!"

"You know why," Saruhiko muttered, not wanting to repeat himself and have the same argument over and over again.

"So you just...you just went and sang with Nagare, because you didn't like what I was doing?! You said you didn't want to sing anymore! Hell Nagare wouldn't have even asked you to sing if it wasn't for me and my song."

Clenching his fists, Saruhiko stood up, glaring down at Misaki. "Right, because it's all about you. Your song, my voice on your song. Me doing whatever the hell it is you want me to do! I never said I wasn't going to sing again. So I sang with Nagare, did you really think you'd be the only person I’d sing for?"

This was exactly what Saruhiko had wanted, Misaki hurt, angry, and abandoned by Saruhiko. Misaki had been the one to drag him into this world of music, performance, and singing, and Misaki had been the one to leave him behind. Saruhiko had never wanted this, never wanted to be a part of this world, and yet, he'd fallen for Misaki's damn persuasive enthusiasm.

"You're such a liar," Misaki growled. "I can't believe I ever thought I missed working with you. You're an asshole and a traitor!" he yelled.

"Then I guess you realized who the real me is," Saruhiko said. "You really are an idiot if it took you this long to figure it out."

"Yeah," Misaki said, his golden eyes trembling with hurt. "Guess I am an idiot." He shoved his phone into his pocket, and stormed out of the office, and Saruhiko noticed his coworkers staring as he turned his back to them, watching Misaki slowly disappear down the steps.

He'd done it to hurt him, and Misaki was so damn transparent so Saruhiko knew it had worked. Misaki felt betrayed and called Saruhiko a traitor, and he now understood the exact same emotions Saruhiko had felt when Misaki had been so willing to give up his own sound in exchange for the possibility of making a crappy song with Suoh Mikoto. Certainly, Saruhiko had sure taught Misaki.

He'd seen the way Misaki's eyes and hands trembled, the way he looked as though he'd already cried a few tears over this. Misaki was a fool, and an idiot, just as Saruhiko had always suspected.

Saruhiko knew he'd probably never see Misaki again, not that it mattered. He wasn't going to sing for him or anyone else ever again. He'd made his point, and Misaki could continue going about his life being a sellout for Homra and Mikoto.

He'd done it to hurt Misaki, and he had. It had worked just the way Saruhiko had planned. It should've been a success. So why the hell did it feel like Saruhiko's chest was about to burst from all the pain slowly building up inside his heart?

~~

Done. Misaki was absolutely done, no questions asked. Actually, he regretted going to see the asshole. He wasn't sure what he had expected to happen, but he hadn't expected Saruhiko to be so damn cold. Did he really not care about anything? Any of the experiences they shared, or the fact they had been intimate with each other? Apparently nothing mattered to Saruhiko, nothing but himself.

It had been a week since then and Misaki was done with feeling frustrated, even if he couldn't seem to stop thinking about how shitty this whole situation was.

Clenching his fists, Misaki slammed them down on the keyboard in front him, the keys shaking with a strange sound, the notes clashing. He hated how much Saruhiko affected him, affected his music. He'd been staring at the piano blankly for almost an hour, trying to decide what to work on.

He should've been happy. There was no reason for Saruhiko to be affecting him as much as he was. Misaki and Mikoto's single had come out a few days ago, and already it was all people could talk about. The song had been been praised, and was staying on the charts. Misaki and Mikoto had already done an interview yesterday. A tour was practically guaranteed with how well the single was doing, and Mikoto's new album was projected to do equally as well, if not better. Plus, Misaki's involvement helped raise his own popularity, and people were already buzzing about what his full album would sound like. It was terrifying and thrilling, and Misaki couldn't believe it was actually happening to him.

He didn't have much time. If his and Mikoto's single continued to do well, he'd have to have a few tracks ready for the upcoming tour, and so far, Misaki had come up very short. He and Totsuka had recorded one song, but overall Misaki had nothing.

There had been a tiny, hopeful part of him which had hoped going to see Saruhiko would make the idiot change his mind. Misaki would've forgiven him if he'd apologized, said that Nagare wasn't as talented as him. Okay, he didn't need to say the last part, but Misaki would've appreciated being Saruhiko's number one.

But he wasn't, Saruhiko had made that very clear.

"Yata-san?" A knock on the studio door interrupted Misaki's groaning, and he quickly pulled his fingers back from the keyboard. He'd been spending more time in the studio at Homra, as opposed to his personal on at home, in hopes that being in a different environment would help him forget about dumbass Saruhiko better.

"Ah Totsuka-san, hi," he smiled, trying to look innocent after completely smashing the keyboard in.

"Izumo has been looking for you," he grinned. "He has some good news for us," Totsuka sang, twirling in the doorway.

Misaki immediately slammed his hand down on the keyboard, and pushed the chair up. "A tour?!" he asked quickly.

Totsuka smirked, biting down on his lip and nodding. "But you didn't hear it from me! And you know...Yata-san..." he chuckled, gesturing to Misaki's hands on the piano. "If you break one of those, Izumo will make you suffer a punishment...worse than death!" Totsuka leaned forward and menacingly waggled his fingertips.

Paling, Misaki jumped back, moving away from the keyboard. "I-I know! I just got excited!" he muttered, and yanked his beanie on, brushing by Totsuka.

"I figured, I figured, and don't worry, I won't say anything, but consider this your warning," Totsuka snorted, leading the way back to the main meeting room.

Following him upstairs, Misaki felt his heart pounding in his chest, and it took all his will to not bounce up and down on the stairs. They were going to go on tour, that had to be the good news!

In the meeting room, Mikoto sat with his feet rested on the table, rocking his chair back and forth, Kusanagi stood at the front of the room. "Nice of you both to join us," he smirked. "I'm sure Totsuka couldn't keep his mouth shut, so I bet you probably are already aware of what this meeting is about."

"Shouldn't've told 'im..." Mikoto muttered, kicking his boot back to place his feet on the ground.

"You're right..." Kusanagi sighed. "I don't know what I was thinking."

Totsuka giggled loudly, and took a seat directly next to Mikoto. "Aw c'mon King! It was exciting, how could I resist?" He leaned forward and placed his head on Mikoto's shoulder.

Mikoto sighed and nudged him. "No one expects you to resist anymore," he grunted, shaking his head.

"What's that supposed to mean!?" Totsuka pouted, but Kusanagi shook his head, ignoring both of them.

"Anyway," he began. "As you all have heard, the new single is doing well, we've been holding the top of the charts for this past week. We have been neck and neck with Hisui Nagare's new song," Kusanagi explained, and Yata couldn't help but let out a soft scoff. Any song they did would have to be better than any song Saruhiko was involved in. "Sometimes we're ahead, sometimes he's ahead, but either way, we're about set to be signed for a tour."

"YES!" Misaki yelled loudly, pumping his fist into the air. Though he quickly lowered it, looking a bit embarrassed about his outburst. "R-Right. I mean...yeah, awesome," he cleared his throat trying desperately to look cool.

Kusanagi laughed. "It's okay Yata-san, it's fine to be excited. Mikoto and Totsuka will be the headliner, but you will be a secondary headliner, rather than just an opener. Does this make sense?"

Misaki nodded rigorously, happy to even be anything. Admittedly, he would've settled for being the opener, but a secondary headliner was even better! "Yes! That's awesome!" he cheered eagerly.

"Wonderful. I'll be setting up the dates and locations in the next few days. The tour probably won't actually start for a few months, so this will give you both time to finalize your albums. Misaki, do you think you can have an EP ready by then? All you'd need is four to five additional tracks to the two solo ones you already have."

Misaki nodded, just about to jump up and run back to start on the new tracks now. "Of course I can," he smiled, giving him a thumbs up.

"Perfect. We can check back in once everything is all set, and we'll get started on promotional material, all of which will be run by all of you for approval," Kusanagi explained.

Misaki was trying his very hardest to listen, but it was a bit difficult. His mind was reeling with all the possibilities for songs he could write. New songs, songs he would sell and people would actually buy them. This was actually happening for him, he was going to be a real DJ _and_ go on tour with Mikoto. It was hard to believe, and he wanted to pinch himself and see if he was dreaming.

"Alright," Kusanagi chuckled. "Time for you to get to work!" He saluted them, and moved away, heading back towards, his own office, while Mikoto and Totsuka stood up as well.

Misaki however, leapt up and ran to block Mikoto from leaving. Bowing quickly, Misaki let out a large breath of air. "T-Thank you Mikoto-san for this opportunity. I...I can't tell you how much it means to me, getting to work with you like this!" His hands trembled at his side, sure he was used to working with Mikoto before, but something about this made him nervous, thrilled and excited.

Placing a hand on his shoulder, Mikoto grunted. "You're talented. It'll be a good tour. Work hard," he said. "Though...I don't think I gotta remind you of that, seems like you'll do it anyway." He rubbed the back of his neck, sighing.

"Y-Yes, sir!" Misaki stood up, nodding quickly. Mikoto waved, and walked out of the room, followed by a pleased Totsuka, who waved as they stepped onto the elevator, disappearing from view.

Scrunching his face up, Misaki curled his spine over and shot out, as though he were a bomb exploding with excitement. He was going on his first tour! And who cared if Saruhiko didn't believe in him, Mikoto did, and that was all that mattered.

~~

"Absolutely not." Saruhiko muttered, shaking his head as he spoke into the phone.

"Are you sure? It would pay very well," Nagare's smooth tone trickled into Saruhiko's ear, like a snake tempting it's prey. "So well in fact, you probably wouldn't have to worry about that silly little job of yours anymore," Nagare explained.

The words only made Saruhiko angrier. Why the hell did all musicians he knew feel the need to pressure him into situations he didn't feel comfortable with. He had regretted answering the call at all, but something about Nagare actually contacting him made him cave. But now, he felt like a moron.

"I said no," Saruhiko repeated bluntly. "It's not about the money."

"Mmm, I didn't think so. No, I knew for you, it wasn't about the money," Nagare hummed. "You know, I've heard rumors of Suoh Mikoto going on tour with up and coming DJ Yata Misaki."

"And?" Saruhiko clicked his tongue, not appreciating the direction this conversation was going in.

"If I have you with me, I'm sure my concert series will be far more successful than theirs," he chuckled.

"I don't care," Saruhiko said. "You can do your concert alone. I'm not interested in touring around the country to sing one song at every show."

"I'd be happy to put you on more tracks," Nagare continued. "And you realize it would be a free trip, you could see the world."

"I don't care," Saruhiko repeated. "I made a promise with myself that once I was done recording with you, I wouldn't have anything else to do with the music world."

"Well, isn't that too bad," Nagare said softly. "However, I think you'll be changing your mind."

"Doubtful," Saruhiko said, and pushed his phone off, slamming it down on the desk.

He had made his decision. He was done with the music world. He'd never wanted to be a part of it in the first place, and Misaki and Nagare dragging him in was exactly the opposite of what he wanted to do.

It had been a long damn week, and Saruhiko was looking forward to going home and working on some programming, maybe getting a little sleep if he could as well. Lately it had been difficult to sleep, and he hated admitting that part of it was because he had grown used to sleeping next to Misaki, and the empty bed was a lot bigger than he remembered.

Munakata had been out all week, which had been nice, the man often did this, looking for new clients, attending technology faires, etc. But especially with Misaki's outburst, Saruhiko was happy he hadn't had to worry about any sort of lecture from the man.

"Fushimi-kun! Glad to see you're still here." Perhaps he had spoken too soon, as he watched Munakata walk down the hall heading towards his office. It was late, and all the other employees had gone home. Even Akiyama had left, even though he often stayed later with Saruhiko, partially because he was working, but partially because he enjoyed keeping Saruhiko company, whether Saruhiko liked it or not.

"Sir, with all due respect, why are _you_ here? It's Friday evening..." he muttered.

"Ah, well I just got back from my trip," he explained, "And I left a few work things I needed to catch up on this weekend in my office, so I simply stopped by to grab it," he chuckled, pressing his glasses up on his face.

"Right..." Saruhiko muttered. For anyone else, it would've been out of the ordinary to see their boss so late on a Friday, but this was actually unsurprising. If there was one thing Saruhiko and Munakata had in common, it was the level of how much they cared about work.

"Like I said, I am happy you were here. I was hoping I'd still catch you," he nodded.

Saruhiko clicked his tongue and folded his arms. "Still have more to say?"

"Indeed. I heard Yata Misaki stopped by the office earlier this week."

Of course Munakata didn't say from whom he had heard this information from. Saruhiko was convinced Munakata had to have some sort of cameras installed in the ceilings or their desks. Saruhiko glanced around the room instinctively, as though eyes were watching him.

"Yeah. He was mad about a song I had recorded with another DJ. It didn't matter though, I can record with whoever I please," Saruhiko explained.

"That you can," Munakata nodded.

"Yup."

Adjusting his glasses once more, Munakata cleared his throat. "So I take it neither of you apologized?" Munakata said, and Saruhiko simply clicked his tongue, scoffing. Sighing, Munakata stared directly at Saruhiko's blue eyes. "You know, Fushimi-kun, have you given any more thought to what we spoke about the other day?"

"I don't know how many times I have to tell people I'm not interested in doing music," he grumbled, glancing away from Munakata's intense violet hues.

"Mmm I see. It's too bad, like I said, you were quite alive on that stage, and actually it seems Yata Misaki brought a light to your life I'd never seen before. I did hope you two would work things out, but it seems I am but a dreamer."

Work things out? Work things out how exactly? Saruhiko wanted to ask, but didn't want to show any interest. Sure, he'd missed the good times he'd had with Misaki, but those were gone. The idiot was way too focused on Mikoto, and Saruhiko didn't feel like listening to it.

"Yeah, well, he's got new people to focus on," Saruhiko snapped. "He doesn't need me."

"Are you sure? Have you spoken to him? Perhaps you both need to have a good talk, and apologize to each other. Tell him how you feel," Munakata said, peering through the edge of his glasses.

That must've been some sort of a sick joke, as though Saruhiko was actually going to tell Misaki how he felt. He should've figured it out by now. And Munakata wanted him to apologize. Apologize...how the hell was he supposed to go about doing that? Misaki had been enraged, and Saruhiko really had been sick of the way Misaki constantly pushed him around, and tried to force him into awkward music situations he hated, so really Saruhuko hadn't been wrong. If anyone needed to apologize it was Misaki.

"I know what you're thinking," Munakata sighed, and placed a hand on Saruhiko's shoulder. "But the truth is, I think you both have things you need to say to each other."

Saruhiko's gaze flicked to Munakata's hand, and the older man removed it. "Anyway, Saruhiko, I hope you have a lovely weekend, and I will see you on Monday," he said, bowing to him before walking towards his office.

Saruhiko hated when Munakata got all cryptic like that. Recently, with Misaki involved it had been especially bad.

But Saruhiko truthfully didn't know what he would say to Misaki. He sucked at speaking about his feelings, and he'd been an ass...a purposeful ass. He'd only sang with Nagare, knowing it would hurt Misaki, and it had worked. Even if he wanted to apologize, it was way too far gone by now, and it wasn't like Misaki was going to magically stop worshiping Mikoto.

He was done, with music, and Misaki. There was no fixing what had become of them now.

~~

Misaki was late, and he desperately tried to gather all his belongings, almost dropping his laptop when he went to shove it in his backpack.

"Shit!" he cried out, yanking his headphones off of the ground. His stupid room was too damn messy to find anything in it.

"Yata-san?" Kamamoto said, knocking on the side frame. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"I'm late!" he cried out, rubbing his head as he dug through his clothes to find his hat. He tossed sweaters about, groaning when the black beanie didn't appear.

"Do you really need your hat?" Kamamoto asked, tilting his head.

"Kamamoto, do you see my head right now? I'm presenting two new songs to Kusanagi today, and I don't want to look like a total idiot!" he said.

"Uh...right..." Kamamoto muttered, and Misaki finally found the beanie wedged between his desk and the wall. Holding it up proudly, he slammed it onto his head.

"Okay Kamamoto I gotta go bye," Misaki spoke rapidly before dashing out of the door, tripping as he stormed down the stairs.

He'd been working on these songs for a little under a week now, and he wanted to make sure Kusanagi approved of the direction he was going in. He'd done some test recordings himself, and now he was ready to present them to Kusanagi and Mikoto...

If he made it to the damn meeting on time.

Swinging around the railing of the stairs, Misaki dashed out the door and down the street. He was grateful he didn't live horribly far away from the studio, and he prayed being late wouldn't look too bad on him.

Misaki actually wasn't sure how he felt about these songs. He'd spent a great deal of time moving on from Saruhiko, seeing as the last few songs he'd written with Saruhiko in mind—which was infuriating. He wished he could've done all this without the asshole's singing voice trapped in his head, and so he'd tried to write these thinking of Totsuka. It had gone...decently, he thought. He didn't want to make any judgements until they heard.

He didn't know how this had happened exactly, his strange reliance on Saruhiko. He'd written plenty of music before Saruhiko, but it had been the song with Saruhiko which had sparked his career. Maybe that was why it felt like Saruhiko was his crutch?

But Misaki knew he didn't need Saruhiko anymore. He couldn't have him anymore even if he wanted to, which he most certainly did not. He could do this without him.

Swinging the door open, Misaki ran to the elevator, pushing the up button way more times than necessary.

"C'mon c'mon c'mon," he grumbled, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet.

When the elevator doors finally opened, he dashed inside, and rode the painfully slow lift to the top, only to stumble out when he made it to the 9th floor. He pushed open the door to the conference room and let out a sigh of relief when he realized Mikoto wasn't actually there yet.

Kusanagi however, was casually sorting through some papers. "Ah, Yata-san, take a seat before you pass out," he snorted.

"S-Sorry," Yata muttered, collapsing into one of the chairs. "I, uh, ran to get here," he admitted. "I was running late and..." he paused, deciding not to call attention to the fact that the reason he was late because he couldn't find his damn hat.

Kusanagi simply chuckled. "There's no need to worry about it. You have to understand...Mikoto runs on his own time schedule, and since he's our best talent, we sort of just let him. So when we set a meeting for a certain time, you can almost guarantee he's going to be late.

Staring, Misaki blinked. Mikoto just showed up whenever he wanted? Misaki felt a little foolish for rushing to get to the meeting on time.

"You know you're really late when Mikoto is here before you," he said.

"Right..." Misaki sighed. "Damn...what a relief..." he puffed out his cheeks and pulled out his laptop, getting it ready just in time for Mikoto to finally walk in.

"H-Hi Mikoto-san!" Misaki said, bowing his head.

Mikoto snorted and took a seat next to him. "Kid, you don't have to bow every time you see me."

"R-Right!" Misaki said, nodding quickly.

"You got your stuff?" he asked, folding his arms and shutting his eyes, as though he was absolutely exhausted.

"Oh! Y-Yeah!" he said, pulling up some audio files. "These are just tests, and obviously I won't be singing the final products cause uh, I am not good at singing," he explained, looking to both of the older men for some sort of answer. However, both sat staring, waiting for Misaki to push play.

"Right," he nodded, taking that as his cue to start the song.

The three sat, listening to Misaki's awkward vocals. Listening now, the song felt dry and even a little flat, as though it was missing emotion altogether, and it wasn't just his singing. He glanced at the other two listeners, but neither Kusanagi nor Mikoto seemed to have any sort of expressions on their face. They both stared at the laptop, unmoving.

Clearing his throat, Misaki leaned forward once the song had ended, and pushed play on the other track. As the song rolled through, Misaki focused on the seconds as they slowly ticked down, desperately wanting it to end. Just as the first song had been, Misaki felt this song was possibly even worse. Maybe it was just his vocals?

The ending came, however, and the silence stayed. The tension was thick in the air, and Misaki could tell they didn't like it...and neither of them had said a word.

"Mm," Mikoto grunted finally. "Play that second one again."

Misaki did as he was told, and waited for the taller to say something. Leaning forward, Mikoto paused it on his own after the first few seconds. "So...what happened?" Mikoto asked, and Misaki felt his heart sink. It felt as if his heart was glass and had shattered completely, his breathing painful as broken shards pierced at his lungs.

Glancing down, Misaki clenched at his fists in his lap. What had happened? Saruhiko had ditched him, but Misaki had put it behind him! It wasn't supposed to be affecting him anymore. "I..." he muttered, his voice catching in his throat. The last thing he wanted to do was cry in front of Kusanagi and Mikoto.

"You're better than this," Mikoto said, glancing out the window.

"I think you know it too, Yata-san," Kusanagi nodded. "You don't have to rush."

"I-I know..." Misaki muttered. "It's not that."

"It's that Fushimi guy," Mikoto said with a long sigh. "He's messing with your head."

"N-No! I already put Saru behind me!" Misaki retorted quickly.

Mikoto shook his head, and gestured towards the screen. "Obviously not," he grunted. "Look I don't know what happened between you and Fushimi, but seems to me you wanna talk to him."

"What?! Of course not!" Misaki blurted out. "I want nothing to do with the guy. I tried to get him to talk to me and he turned me down like the asshole he is!"

"Your music says otherwise," Mikoto sighed, gesturing to the computer screen again. "This was boring, basic. It's almost like you did it on purpose. Plus you sat here looking all dejected while we listened, you knew it was bad," Mikoto grumbled.

Misaki had never heard Mikoto talk so much in one go, and he was shocked quite frankly, his jaw dropping.

"It...wasn't that bad," Kusanagi urged, trying to soften the blow. "But we do know you can produce better music than this."

"You can do better," Mikoto shrugged. "It was dry. Like you cut off your emotion from yourself," he explained.

Pursing his lips, Misaki glanced away from Mikoto. For someone who rarely talked, he certainly had a lot of truthful insights. By cutting Saruhiko out of his songs, Misaki had kind of cut his emotions out. Saruhiko had evoked such intense feelings within him, and brought forth such new unique things in his music. Saruhiko was his muse in a way, and though he didn't necessarily need him to sing every song he wrote, not having the option was surprisingly stifling.

And it wasn't as though he couldn't make music without Saruhiko, he'd done it before, but this was all before he'd realized Saruhiko was completely done with him and music. He'd made it very clear when they had had their conversation, and since then writing music had been a struggle. Perhaps there had been a part of Misaki which had always hoped Saruhiko would come back.

"Maybe you need to think about talking to him again," Mikoto said, standing up to leave the room.

Sighing, Misaki placed his head in hands, but jerked up when he felt Kusanagi's hand on his shoulder.

"Mikoto believes in you, Yata-san, you'll figure this out."

Misaki tried to answer, but all he could do was nod.

~~

"What the hell am I going to _do_?!" Misaki yelled, throwing his backpack on the floor as he explained the situation to Kamamoto once he’d returned home.

"Apologize?" Kamamoto suggested.

"To that bastard?!" Misaki growled. "I think he made his feelings clear!"

"Or...try and make something different?" Kamamoto suggested instead.

Misaki groaned, leaning his head back against the couch. "There's no way that will work, Mikoto is going to know, I just know he's going to know..." he muttered. "I mean he figured it out right away..." he whispered.

"I mean...you've seemed really tense and unhappy the past couple of weeks."

"I'm just...stressed about the tour and the album!" Misaki retorted, but he knew that wasn't true. If anything, those things should've made him happy, thrilled and excited to work on the thing he loved, and yet, it had just been a struggle.

And maybe it was because of Saruhiko and his emotions. His music was missing something, and to Misaki whenever he listened back, it always felt like he was missing Saruhiko. But how the hell was he supposed to get that back?

Sighing, Misaki stood up and began to pace about the room. "And what if...what if I did try and go find Saru..." he muttered. "I mean what the hell am I supposed to do? I'm not going to apologize to him when he was a huge asshole to me! This is mostly his fault, for doing that stupid song with Nagare!" Misaki yelled.

"Ah...Sometimes I forget how stubborn you are," Kamamoto chuckled.

"Oh, I'm so glad this is funny to you Kamamoto!" Misaki scoffed, folding his arms as he continued to walk in circles around the room.

"Sorry, Yata-san," Kamamoto said. "I just...I think it was better when you two were friends or...whatever else you were."

Misaki froze, blushing. He knew he'd had a strong connection with Saruhiko, and not just with music. He did miss it, and him. He didn't want to admit it to the asshole, but damn did he miss him. Hell, he would've taken Saruhiko back even if he didn't want to sing anymore. Misaki just wanted him, no matter what. When had he gotten so weird and desperate?

What had they even fought about in the first place? Misaki was having a hard time remembering. Something about Mikoto? Was it really so bad that Misaki had wanted to work with Mikoto? His sound hadn't changed that much?

But Saruhiko had been so upset...jealous even.

Then it hit him.

Saruhiko was _jealous_. Jealous of Misaki doing a song with Mikoto, just as Saruhiko had done a song with Nagare. Misaki had felt a surge of jealousy pulse through his veins, and even thinking about it now he felt a bit angry. He'd change the song every time it had come on. But Saruhiko had been invited to collaborate with them and said no.

"Look," Misaki sighed finally. "Even if I wanted to make things better...I don't know how. Saru wants nothing to do with Mikoto. I'm not going to stop working with him...hell, I'm going on a tour with the guy, and if Saru can't accept that..." Misaki trailed off. "Plus Saru said he wanted nothing to do with music anymore, and he especially wants nothing to do with me.

Kamamoto snorted, shaking his head. "And when has that ever stopped you before?" he chuckled.

Blinking, Misaki glanced from Kamamoto to his laptop, then he glanced down the hall to his mixing room. "You're right..." he muttered.

There were so many times he'd been overly pushy with Saruhiko, that was how their entire friendship had started in the first place. It was always Misaki's job to push and push, Saruhiko needed that to do anything different in his life. All this time, Misaki had been waiting for Saruhiko to come to him and apologize, but maybe he had been wrong all along. Misaki had always been the one to go to him, so why would this time be any different? Even if Saruhiko did owe him an apology...Misaki was never going to get it if he didn't do something.

Their fight was now leaking into his music, affecting his possible career. He couldn't let it go on like this. He had to get Saruhiko back in his life. He wouldn't force him to sing, but at least...spending time together, as friends or whatever...it would be enough to keep Misaki focused and not messing up songs.

"But he's never going to talk to me," Misaki said aloud, his jumbled thoughts finally growing clearer.

"You haven't even tried!" Kamamoto said.

"I kind of did..." Misaki muttered.

"What, running down to his office and yelling in his face? That's not really an apology..." Kamamoto teased.

Groaning, Misaki waved his hand towards Kamamoto trying to brush him off. "Yeah that's the problem, after that, he's really never going to talk to me!" he exclaimed. "I mean...we both said some awful shit."

"Sounds like you both need to apologize, and you know Fushimi-san isn't one to make the first move."

"I know," Misaki grumbled, "I literally just thought that. But like I said, even if I contact him he won't answer."

"And like _I_ said," Kamamoto continued, "when has that ever stopped you in the past."

"It hasn't...I just feel like I need something to convince him..." he muttered, tapping his chin as he looked around the room.

Glancing down the hall towards his studio, Misaki's face lit up, the largest smile he'd had in weeks. "That's it, Kamamoto!" he cheered. "I have just the thing!"

And before Kamamoto could answer, Misaki disappeared into his studio.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhh I can't believe there's only one chapter left after this!! I hope you guys like the conclusion of this fic! I've had so much fun writing it, and I'm actually a little proud of this fic, just maybe?! LOL Thank you to everyone who has supported my slow-ass and thank you especially to Adriana for beta-ing!! Please look for the last chapter soon! :D


	13. Chapter 13

It took a while for Saruhiko to convince himself he was content with his phone being as silent as it was. His emails, on the other hand, had been blowing up. A few random musicians he'd never heard of had contacted him asking if he wanted to collaborate. He deleted those of course. Then there were a few from fans, mostly women, who claimed they loved his voice and how his song had helped them through a rough time. One had sent him questionable pictures, and he had deleted that email so fast, he hoped he could just pretend it had ever existed.

Doumyouji and Hidaka were constantly asking when he was going to do something new, but Saruhiko had spent the majority of the time ignoring them and brushing them off. He wasn't going to keep explaining to them that he was done with music forever. Both had seemed disappointed, but Akiyama had recently been ushering them away from Saruhiko's desk.

Munakata had also given up it seemed, no longer did he give Saruhiko a knowing look every morning when he came into work, and he had stopped making weird suggestions.

He wasn't upset people were finally giving up on him—actually it was exactly what he had always wanted. He wanted to be left alone, free to go about his daily life as he had been before Misaki, before all this music mess had begun.

And yet, even though it had been a few weeks at this point, Saruhiko still found himself occasionally glancing at his cell phone, pressing the small button on the side to get the screen to light up. For a moment, it felt as though his heart was a bit heavier in his chest.

Perhaps there was one person he had never expected to give up on him. But this person had given up, this person had other people he was more passionate about. People he needed to focus on to further his career. And being ignored was what Saruhiko wanted, that was what he had convinced himself. It was far easier this way.

And he was content, completely content. Touching the side of his phone, he ran his finger over the cool glass screen. It was much better this way, with his phone being silent. He got more work done, and wasn't so damn distracted or annoyed all the time. It was better.

"Ah Fushimi-san," Akiyama's soft voice came from behind him, and he turned around quickly, practically jumping in his seat, as though he had been caught doing something he shouldn't have. "Sorry," Akiyama continued, "I didn't mean to startle you."

"Tch, you didn't," Saruhiko scoffed, folding his arms.

"I was wondering if you could help me with a quick report?" he asked.

Saruhiko flicked his gaze towards his phone again, he didn't really care much about helping Akiyama, but compared to most of his obnoxious coworkers, Akiyama was probably the one he liked the best.

"Um, if you're busy, you don't have to," Akiyama spoke up again, waving his hand a bit.

"It's fine," Saruhiko grunted, clicking his tongue. "What do you need, make it quick."

Pursing his lips, Akiyama handed Saruhiko the folder. "You can just read it over yourself," he said softly. "But...I wanted to ask if you were okay," he muttered. "You seem really down today... well... lately..." Akiyama muttered.

"I'm fine," Saruhiko snapped, taking the folder from Akiyama's hand. So much for Akiyama being the only one to leave him alone so far. At least he hadn't pressured him for more information. In fact, he hadn't really said anything.

"We're all here for you if you want to talk?" Akiyama said. "I mean I know you're not much of a talker..." he muttered trailing off. "Maybe we could all go out again, take your mind off of things."

Saruhiko tried not to crush the folder with his fist. "Akiyama, I said I'm fine," he growled. "And I'm never going to be pressured into going out again," he continued, looking down towards his phone. "That's how this whole damn mess started in the first place."

"Ah...true..." Akiyama muttered. "I didn't even think of that..."

Clicking his tongue, Saruhiko took the envelope and sat back down in his chair, swiveling it away from Akiyama. "I'll bring this back to you in a moment." And thankfully, Akiyama took that as his cue to leave.

He flipped through the folder, reading about the technical issues the computer was experiencing and had in the past. It was hard to focus when all he could think about was how frustrated he was. This was how work had been for the past few weeks. His performance hadn't slipped or anything, he was still on time with his work, actually he'd been working a little faster, since it was a good distraction. Occasionally, he'd get stuck, focusing on the wrong things, his heart throbbing with frustration and anger.

He'd been avoiding music completely as well, not wanting to listen to anything on the radio if he didn't have to. His and Misaki's song was on frequently, and even worse, his and Nagare's song would occasionally pop up too. Neither were things he wanted to listen to, and any sort of music he listened to reminded him of all of the wrong things.

He stood up, making his way over to Akiyama's desk, and he placed the folder back down. "I circled the parts you're going to want to have him replace," he said. "It's not a difficult fix, but it might be expensive if we need to order the parts."

"I...see," Akiyama said taking the file back. "Thanks," he nodded. "And uh, Fushimi-san," he continued. "I'm sorry...about earlier."

"It's fine. I already told you I'm fine. I want to drop the subject," he said. "It's not something we need to focus on. I put it behind me, and I would appreciate it if everyone else did too."

"I know...you just seemed so upset lately."

"I'm _fine_ ," he repeated. "If you have more questions about computer stuff you can ask, but this is the last I want to hear about this subject." Not giving Akiyama the chance to answer, he moved back towards his own desk. The less he heard about it, the less he would think about it, or at least that was Saruhiko's theory. He was already moving on with his life.

~~

It had taken almost a week to perfect it, and even then Misaki wasn't sure if it was good enough. He wanted it to be perfect., absolutely perfect. Saruhiko deserved that at the very least. Actually, Misaki knew Saruhiko probably wasn't going to enjoy the present at first, hell he probably would reject it. Misaki was ready to do what he did best—pester Saruhiko until he convinced him to listen.

He had pushed the thoughts of the apology he felt he owed to the back of his mind, and now he could only focus on convincing Saruhiko to forgive him for what he had done.

The song was something reminiscent of the song they had originally performed together. It had similar melodies, only this time Misaki was singing it. Misaki's voice wasn't very good, in fact he often sounded shaky and nervous on his own songs. He liked it so much better when he heard Saruhiko or Totsuka sing his stuff, it made more sense. But for Saruhiko, Misaki wanted to do this. He wanted to prove how much Saruhiko meant to him, how stupid he'd been to push Saruhiko away, and how much Saruhiko had helped him...there was also the slight possibility that he loved him, and though he had mentioned it in the song, Misaki wasn't sure how...literal Saruhiko would take the message.

It was a song Misaki had written for Saruhiko, and Saruhiko only.

The song was a bit slower than stuff he normally made, but he felt that would suit Saruhiko better, and it swelled at the end, filled with as much emotion Misaki could pour into it. He hated his stupid, shaky voice on it, but it would be worth it in the end when Saruhiko realized how much Misaki had put into this song.

There had been parts he'd deleted and parts he'd rearranged. He'd sang the damn thing at least 20 times, but it had all been worth it. Worth it to get the perfect song for Saruhiko, to express everything Misaki was feeling.

He didn't want Saruhiko to forget the way it had felt when they had performed together. The way the beat had flown between their hearts, the way they had kept the tempo together, and how it had been impossible for Misaki to stop smiling for the entire night. He didn't want Saruhiko to forget how amazing the times they had shared together had been. Sure, they’d had some difficult moments, but they'd also had amazing ones, and Saruhiko had changed so much in the small amount of time Misaki had known him.

He couldn't believe he had almost let all this go.

"Yata-san?" Kamamoto said, opening the door to the studio, and Misaki immediately slammed his laptop shut. He had promised himself that no one else but Saruhiko would hear this. "You left your phone in the living room and you keep getting texts, from Kusanagi-san I think."

"Hah?!" Misaki yelled, and lunged forward, grabbing the device from Kamamoto's hand. "Shit!" Misaki cursed, and tucked the phone into one of his pocket's. "I'll answer later. I'm almost done with this."

"The song you're writing for Fushimi-san?" Kamamoto asked.

"S-Shut up! Yes that one," Misaki blushed, folding his arms indignantly, as he glanced away. "I just gotta...figure out how to give it to him. If I send it, I have a feeling he won't open the file..." Misaki admitted.

"What about your songs for your album?" Kamamoto asked. "Have you worked on those at all? I don't want you to do that thing where you get obsessive and forget what you should actually be working on."

Groaning, Misaki leaned back in the chair. "Yeah, I've worked on them a little bit, but Mikoto-san already rejected some of the songs I’d shown him. I don't think I'll be able to produce anything good until I get this shit with Saru sorted," he said, scratching at his neck. "I have a few months, and Kusanagi keeps reminding me not to rush it," he sighed.

"Well at least you're getting a lot of extra time," Kamamoto said. "I'm sure you'll figure out how to fix things with him."

"Yeah!" Misaki nodded. "And like I said...it's...basically done, I just don't know how to give it to the asshole!"

"If you're worried, go give it to him in person," Kamamoto shrugged. It wasn't a terrible idea, and it was pretty typical at this point for Misaki to burst in unannounced to Saruhiko's job. It might make Saruhiko hate him even more, but it was worth a shot to get him to listen. "Have you tried texting him?" Kamamoto asked.

Misaki shook his head. "Not exactly. But I know how he gets about his damn phone, and he hates me right now so there's no way he's going to text back, even if I was to try spam texting him..." Misaki muttered.

"Yeah maybe don't do that," Kamamoto snorted. "And maybe-"

"I think I'm just gonna take my damn laptop down to his office and I'll show it to him myself." He yanked out the chord, and picked up the laptop, shoving it in his backpack next to his bed.

"Uhm...Yata-san. I was just going to say maybe you should wait until he's back at home and you guys could have some privacy."

"No way! He'll never let me in his apartment, are you kidding?!" Misaki said, swinging the backpack around his shoulders. "This is definitely the best way to make sure he listens!"

"What exactly did you do to make him hate you?" Kamamoto asked raising his eyebrow, but Misaki brushed past him, shaking his head.

"It's too long of a story, I'll tell you later once it's all fixed."

"Okay...good luck then," he shrugged.

"I don't need luck," Misaki smiled. "Once he hears this, I just know we're gonna figure shit out!" Misaki said, giving Kamamoto a thumbs up. "I'll be back!" he called out, slamming the door behind him as he dashed down the stairs.

Admittedly, he was a little nervous Saruhiko would never want to talk to him again, but he hoped, with many of the other times he'd spoken with Saruhiko, this would be able to convince him just as he had in the past. He didn't want to be pushy again, or well, pushy enough that it would push Saruhiko away forever, but he wasn't going to let Saruhiko get away from him, not again. He wasn't sure if it was going to solve his music problem, but he hoped fixing things with Saruhiko would help him be inspired again.

He couldn't pinpoint when it had happened, but somewhere along the way, Misaki realized he needed Saruhiko in his life, whether he was involved with his music or not. No matter what, he had to make Saruhiko realize that.

~~

"You don't understand!" 

Saruhiko practically dropped his phone onto the ground.

The voice was loud and echoed up the stairs, a voice Saruhiko was all too familiar with. He felt his heart sink, and his palms grew sweaty. He truly had thought all this was over, and yet here he was back at Saruhiko's office. Why? Had he come to yell at him again?

"I'm always allowed to go up!!" the voice yelled again, and Saruhiko hoped Fuse would have enough of a brain to keep the idiot out of here.

A few of the other workers had peered over the edges of their cubicle, all disturbed by the loud noises echoing up the main stairwell.

"C'mon! It'll take two seconds! This is really important! I'm not going to yell or anything!"

Saruhiko found that hard to believe, especially since Misaki was already creating such a damn scene. Why the hell did he always do this at Saruhiko's job? He'd already created a scene multiple times, did he really need to bother Saruhiko more? It had been weeks!

Groaning, he tucked his phone into his pocket, and stormed down the stairs, not surprised when he saw Misaki at the bottom of the stairs. His face was red, and he was panting heavily, holding his laptop in his hand. He looked frantic. Glancing from the laptop to Misaki's face, Saruhiko scoffed. Was Misaki here simply to get his laptop fixed? There were plenty of places he could do that, and though Saruhiko did like to think of himself as the best, he would've thought Misaki would go elsewhere to save himself the awkwardness.

"What the hell are you doing here, Misaki?" Saruhiko scoffed, clicking his tongue angrily at Misaki.

"AH! Saru!" he called out, and practically slammed his laptop on the counter. If it wasn't broken before, Saruhiko felt a little concerned for it now. "Good! You're here! I've been trying to get upstairs, but this guy wouldn't let me through."

"Good, you have no reason to be up there," Saruhiko continued.

"Yes I do! I wanted to see you!" Misaki urged, and Fuse began to slink away, not wanting to get caught between the two. Saruhiko couldn't blame him, based on prior knowledge of how Saruhiko and Misaki interacted, Saruhiko wouldn't have wanted to be around them either.

"You did? Last time you made it pretty clear you wouldn't want to see me ever again. And quite frankly, I'm not exactly happy to see you."

"Okay, see, I knew you'd probably say something like this. 'I don't wanna see you Misaki' or 'Get out of my sight', but you gotta listen to me just this once Saru, please!" he said.

"Just this once? Just this _once_?" Saruhiko growled. "How many times have you been pushy with me and forced me to do things I didn't want to do!"

Frowning, Misaki slammed his hand down on the counter, the loud noise echoing through the hall. "And how many times did you end up loving what we did together!" he grunted, determination flickering across his eyes.

It was a look Saruhiko was used to, one he was incredibly familiar with. Misaki's eyes which proved he wasn't going to give this up. But Saruhiko had fallen for this too many times, in fact there was a time he would've maybe even admitted he loved that look. Not this time, no matter what, he wouldn't cave to Misaki's demanding nature.

"You're lucky we're in a public place," Saruhiko hissed, crossing his arms. "Please leave. I won't ask you again."

But instead of listening, Misaki yanked open his laptop, wiping the screen off as he hurriedly typed his password. He glanced around the store, his gaze falling on a few of the people. He groaned, but quickly shook his head. "Okay, okay, this isn't how I wanted to do this, but I need you to hear this!" he said.

Saruhiko rolled his eyes, and stormed forward, pressing down on Misaki's laptop to shut it. "I don't need to hear anything," he explained. "And I know you love making a scene, but could you not do this at my job."

Misaki stopped his hand. "Please Saruhiko! Please!" he begged, his eyes looking desperate. The determination was still there, but his bright eyes were pleading. What the hell was going on? Saruhiko was certain Misaki hated him now, and yet here he was, being his typical pushy self.

But Saruhiko had resolved himself to his choice. He didn't want Misaki in his life. Even if he took him back, he knew it wouldn't go well. History would repeat itself, and even if they made up, Misaki would go back to idolizing Mikoto, worshiping him and being excited the two of them were working together. Saruhiko couldn't do it.

The problem, which Saruhiko had no desire to admit to himself, was he cared about Misaki. He liked him, and he wanted to be the only person Misaki cared about. He wanted to be his number one. And with Mikoto around, there was no way that would ever happen.

Sucking in a large breath of air, Saruhiko's body felt cold, a shiver running down his spine. This had to be the end of it.

"You need to leave Misaki. I am busy, and I'm sure you have plenty of music...things you need to be working on. Don't come here again."

"C'mon Saru," Misaki grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. "We both said shitty things, but I really wanna...show you this thing. I mean it doesn't gotta be like this, you know?" he said.

Clenching his fists, Saruhiko leaned forward, his eyes staring harshly. "I don't know how many times I'm going to tell you. I don't wish to be involved in the music world anymore. I don't...wish to be involved in your world anymore," he hissed, stepping away from the counter. "Don't bother me anymore."

He turned away, and headed back up the stairs, to return to his work. He wasn't supposed to see Misaki again, and he truly hoped this time he wouldn't have to anymore. He wanted to forget about Misaki, and the way he made him feel, and if he kept pestering him it would be impossible for Saruhiko to do so. Even now, he'd worked so hard to forget about Misaki for the past week and now he had stumbled back into Saruhiko’s life, bringing back memories he had almost completely moved past.

Saruhiko hated emotions, he hated feelings, and above all else, he hated when his heart felt so damn heavy in his chest.

~~

When Misaki saw Saruhiko turn away from him and walk up the stairs, he slammed his hand down onto the table in front of him, and stormed away from the counter, not saying a word to the man who called out behind him to have a nice day.

He had to regroup. There was absolutely no way he could just give this up. This was Saruhiko, and Misaki had resolved to fix this. If he couldn't convince Saruhiko to listen at work, he'd have to find another way to get him to listen.

Which was why he was now sat on the stoop of Saruhiko's apartment, waiting for him to get home. He'd tucked his laptop into his backpack, and curled up, bringing his knees up to his chest. He'd wait as long as he had to, even if Saruhiko didn't get home until midnight.

However, Misaki had forgotten one minor detail—winter was on the horizon, and by the time the sun began to set, he was getting chillier and chillier. He yanked his beanie down further over his ears, trying to cover more of his neck as a shiver ran down his spine. It was nearing 8 PM and Saruhiko still hadn't come home. But Misaki didn't care. He had already resolved to wait as long as he had to. He had to prove to Saruhiko he was serious about fixing...whatever they were.

"What the hell are you doing here?" A voice made Misaki jolt up and glance at his watch, realizing it was close to 10:30, and somewhere along the way he'd fallen asleep. Rubbing his eye, he yawned and stared up at Saruhiko's deep blues.

"You're home!" he called out, jumping up.

"I am. Get out of the way. I told you to leave me alone," he said, brushing past him to put the key in the door.

"No you don't understand! I've been here since I left the store!" Misaki tried to explain.

Saruhiko clicked his tongue. "Then you're an idiot. No surprise there. I told you to leave me alone."

"Since when has that ever stopped me!" Misaki grinned, standing behind him.

"Is that really something to be proud of?" Saruhiko grunted, turning the lock. "Good night Misaki." Slamming the door behind him, he disappeared into his apartment and Misaki let out a long whine.

"What the hell Saruhiko!" he called out. "It's freaking freezing out here! At least hear me out!" Misaki stared at the window, blinking, waiting for Saruhiko to turn the light on and come forward, but after a few minutes Misaki knew it wasn't going to happen.

"C'mon Saru! Just give me a chance!" he cried out again, and he could almost hear the other side of the conversation. Saruhiko _had_ already given him a chance, many chances, more than Misaki deserved. "Okay, okay!" he yelled, waving his hands around. "Give me _another_ chance! Please! I promise, if this doesn't work, I'll leave you alone forever and you'll never have to deal with me again!"

That was a shitty lie, and he knew it, and Saruhiko probably knew it too. "I just want to explain how important you are to me!" he whined.

Still there was nothing, no movement or anything. Was Saruhiko really never going to talk to him again? Misaki knew he was stubborn, but he had figured by now Saruhiko would've caved and at least let him speak for a minute.

He froze in place. Maybe...he didn't need to speak! Maybe he could pull his laptop out, and start the song outside his window, like he was in an 80s movie! Sure, a laptop was different from a boombox, but hell, they could be a new modern classic.

He pulled the small computer out of the bag and kicked his backpack aside. He opened the laptop and pushed down on the space bar, turning the volume up as loud as it could go. He held the computer over his head, standing proudly outside of Saruhiko's window.

He waited, cringing a bit at his own vocals, but he watched the window, waiting for any sign of movement, any sign Saruhiko was listening.

His voice echoed a little bit, but the sound on his laptop wasn't very loud, and the speaker was on the underside, and not traveling very well, as the song began to near the end, Misaki sighed, and pulled it down. Huffing, he shut it slowly and placed it back in his bag.

Misaki shivered again. It was so damn cold, but he'd made a promise and he wasn't about to break it. Maybe Saruhiko hadn't heard him. The laptop speakers had been pretty quiet...

Stretching up, Misaki figured he only had one other option. He'd have to sing it live. He rolled his shoulders back, as shook his body out, as though he were about to start running some sort of marathon. "Alright Saru!" he called out. "You've left me no choice! I'll just have to start singing outside your window!"

A few windows next door had lights that turned on, and Misaki caught a glimpse of a few faces staring at him. Maybe they were going to yell, or call the cops, but so be it. Misaki wasn't going to leave until he was physically dragged away.

He opened his mouth and began to sing, his voice slightly off pitch. At least in his own song, he'd tuned himself to the right notes. It still didn't sound great, but damn did it sound better than this. He sang louder and louder, calling out the emotions of the piece, explaining why he had been stupid to leave Saruhiko behind in such a way. Actually, just singing it, even though it was loud and semi-obnoxious, Misaki felt himself growing more and more emotional.

Suddenly, the door swung open.

"Misaki!" Saruhiko growled, and stormed down the stairs. Wrapping his fist around Misaki's shirt collar, he began to drag him inside. "You weren't fucking kidding," he snapped and slammed the door behind him. "You're gonna get yourself arrested you moron."

"Of course I wasn't!" he said, rubbing his hands together, happy to finally feel warmth rushing through his body. "I have to play you this song."

"A damn song? _That's_ what this is about?" Saruhiko hissed. "I told you so many times I want nothing-"

"To do with the music world! I get it, I get it," Misaki sighed. "Look it's not about that," he said. "Just..." he rubbed his arm, his eyes trailing over Saruhiko.

Damn Saruhiko was all kinds of beautiful. His eyes were gorgeous and blue, the wisps of dark hair brushing over his pale forehead. Even with his brow looking furrowed and angry, Misaki felt his heart flutter just looking at him.

Suddenly he felt nervous, as though there was so much at stake. Saruhiko was in front of him, actually ready to listen, or well as ready as he would ever be, and Misaki couldn't mess it up. "Music...is the only way I really know how to...express myself, without being an idiot," he whispered, and pulled open the laptop, and hovered his finger over the button about to push play. He took a deep breath and slowly shut the laptop. "A-Actually...I'm just going to sing it."

He opened his mouth and began to sing the song acapella. He sang slowly, singing of how Saruhiko had helped him so much, how stupid he'd been to have lost him. His voice was shaky, trembling as he picked up the tempo. He sounded awful, off pitch and weird, and part of him could only imagine how amazing Saruhiko would sound on it, far better than him at least. He got to the end, the part where the music swelled and he sang about wanting forgiveness, wanting to work it out, and he knew he sounded so damn desperate. But Misaki was so lost in his emotions he didn't care how he sounded.

He took a deep breath, singing the last note as he looked at Saruhiko who was silent. He didn't clap or say a word, he just stared.

"Look..." Misaki whispered. "I get it...you hate me now. I didn't mean...I didn't mean to upset you...I just...I just loved working with you and I loved how much fun we had performing the song, I wanted you to come with me and share all these experiences I want to have. I wanted to have them with you. But I was stupid and didn't even think about you! I just wanted what I wanted, like a selfish brat! Then it sucked hearing you do a song with someone else! I was so damn jealous! And it's sucked the past few weeks, you know? It's absolutely sucked! I keep trying to write new music, and it all sucks! I don't even need you to sing it, I don't want you to sing it if you don't want to. I didn't come here to pressure you to come sing again. I just...I just want you in my life Saru!" he yelled, tears streaming down his cheeks. He wasn't sure when he had started crying, but he ran his sleeve across one of his eyes, the tears flowing faster than he could really fix. "I get it...I'm a fucking idiot!" he yelled. "B-But I love you okay? I didn't want to stop...whatever it was we were." He took a deep breath, panting as he tried to catch himself, feeling a little dizzy from how fast he had completely spilled his guts, forgetting to breath properly.

"You done?" Saruhiko muttered.

Misaki nodded. "Y-Yeah..." he whispered, slipping his laptop back into his backpack. "That's...all I wanted you to hear so...I'll leave."

Saruhiko folded his arms and clicked his tongue. "You spent all that time and energy and you plan on leaving now?" 

Misaki froze, his hand resting on his backpack. Did Saruhiko not want him to leave? There was an awkward moment of silence between them, neither of them moving, their eyes locked. Misaki had just assumed…

Suddenly, Saruhiko flicked his gaze towards the kitchen, and he unfolded his arms, rolling his shoulders back. Misaki opened his mouth to speak, but stopped when he saw Saruhiko do the same. A soft sigh left his lips, one filled with frustration and Saruhiko folded his arms again. He looked tense, and a bit angry, but then again it was rare Saruhiko looked happy. Maybe...he did want Misaki to leave? He had been annoying, but he really wanted Saruhiko to at least hear him out, though now he was wondering if he did more harm than good.

Stammering, he rubbed at the back of his neck, finally speaking up. "I just thought...uh...that you...uh…" 

"Shut up." Saruhiko rolled his eyes and leaned forward, yanking Misaki's shirt collar yet again, but this time he pulled their lips together, locking their lips in a kiss. It was an intense kiss too, one that told Misaki Saruhiko had been missing him just as much. Misaki's arms came around Saruhiko's neck, and he pressed his tongue against the taller's, desperately penetrating his mouth. He'd wanted Saruhiko's kisses for weeks now, hell he'd wanted it more than anything.

"Y-You...you forgive me?" Misaki panted, pulling away from Saruhiko, though he stayed close to him, as if stepping back would result in Saruhiko pulling away again.

Shrugging Saruhiko let out a sigh. "Perhaps...but..." he muttered.

"No! Uh...there's no need for a but..." Misaki said frantically, laughing awkwardly.

"But...I should...apologize too..." he grunted, looking positively infuriated with himself. His cheeks were even a little red. "I...I didn't hate doing music stuff with you...I only hated that...maybe you were going to enjoy your time with others more...I didn't want to be...replaced."

"What?!" Misaki yelled and squeezed Saruhiko's cheeks, pulling on them. "Saru! I never would've replaced you! Just cause I was working with other people didn't mean I didn't wanna work with you! You're my favorite! You should know that!" he said.

"Well you didn't make that very clear! All you cared about was Mikoto," Saruhiko scoffed.

"Is...that why you sang with Nagare?" Misaki asked. "Cause you thought I was going to replace you?"

Saruhiko shrugged, not answering verbally, but Misaki could see his cheeks grow a little redder.

"Idiot Saru!" he called out. "I wouldn't have! Hell I'd have you sing all my songs! I thought you didn't want to sing the one with Mikoto."

Scoffing, Saruhiko shook his head. "I didn't, that was a terrible song," he snorted. "I enjoy your style more."

"Well...come sing all the rest of my songs then! I need to make a few more!" Misaki urged, the excitement glistening in his eyes. "A-And...maybe you could sing them...as...you know..." he rubbed his arm, looking awkward. "My, uh, boyfriend..."

"I told you, Misaki I'm done with the music world," he turned away indignantly, but then slowly glanced back at Misaki, a small smirk on his lips. "But...maybe I could...make an exception...for my...boyfriend," he said softly.

Misaki's eyes grew wide. "R-Really?!" he asked, almost breathless.

"Well..." Saruhiko clicked his tongue. "You certainly can't sing them."

"S-Shut up you ass!" he snarled, punching Saruhiko's arm. "I...I tried really hard! On the recording it's not as bad, but...I wanted to say I loved you and shit!"

Rolling his eyes, Saruhiko let out a soft chuckle. "Yeah...right..." he sighed. "I...feel similarly...and...I did kind of...miss your loud stupidity."

Misaki grinned. "Good!" he leaned up, kissing him once again. He'd missed that a hell of a lot more than he'd realized. "So...you'll really sing for me again? Sing for me and...come on tour and be with me?!"

"...Let's not get ahead of ourselves. I'll think about it..." he muttered.

"I-I don't care if you don't wanna...I just...wanna be with ya', you know? You...uh, don’t gotta do anything..."

"I know...but I want...that too..." Saruhiko muttered, and kissed Misaki once more too.

"I love you..." Misaki muttered against his lips, and pushed against him harder.

"Mm...yeah, yeah..." Saruhiko whispered, his voice mumbled and shy. Misaki could see how red Saruhiko’s cheeks were, he knew Saruhiko felt the same, even if he couldn’t quite say the words. Instead, Saruhiko wrapped their hands together, and squeezed tightly. 

Misaki couldn’t help but smile, resting his forehead against Saruhiko’s. He had no idea where they would go from here, but he was sure it was going to be nothing but perfect, or well, perfect by their standards.

~~

_A few months later_

"I'm ready! I'm so fucking ready!" Misaki said, bouncing between both of his feet. Saruhiko rolled his eyes. This had become Misaki's routine, and while Saruhiko found it massively annoying and unhelpful, he couldn't blame Misaki for doing whatever it was he needed to do to...pump himself up.

Saruhiko would've much preferred they do _other_ things to prepare, but he didn't feel like arguing with Misaki as he desperately attempted to get into his own mindset.

"You say this every time," Saruhiko muttered, clicking his tongue.

"Yeah, and I'm ready every time!" Misaki exclaimed.

Rolling his eyes, Saruhiko leaned down to give Misaki a kiss, which made him freeze, his face turning red. Cute. "Idiot," Saruhiko scoffed.

"Look, I know you somehow just space out and do your thing when we go out there, but I still get nervous! The crowds keep getting bigger and bigger!"

They were reaching the middle of their tour, and Misaki was always a reckless ball of nerves before they had to go on stage.

Saruhiko had agreed, offered even, to sing a few of Misaki's songs, and when he had, Misaki had almost no problem finishing his EP album. Kusanagi had released another one of his songs, and sales had been doing quite well. The tour was only making it better.

Misaki's popularity was skyrocketing, and everything was a whirlwind to both of them. With Misaki's rise in popularity, Saruhiko was getting his own following. People were begging Saruhiko to sing for them, just as much as singers begged to sing for Misaki. But Saruhiko and Misaki refused every time, content with each other.

Originally, Saruhiko had wanted to refuse to tour with Misaki, even though deep down, he had enjoyed their performance together. Still, he wasn't quite sure he was ready to drop everything to travel around the country to perform. However, when he realized he'd have to be away from Misaki for months, he'd reluctantly agreed, but on his own terms. He didn't like being away from his main job, but Munakata had told him his job was secure, and Saruhiko could have it back whenever he wanted.

Actually lately, he hadn't hated the whole singing thing, ever since they'd both apologized. Working with Misaki brought out emotions Saruhiko had never known he'd even had, and he didn't mind the sex they usually had after recording sessions. Misaki always seemed particularly fired up after them.

The tour also had been more fun than Saruhiko had expected. He still wasn't a fan of Totsuka or Mikoto, but Kusanagi was fairly interesting to talk to, and Misaki always seemed so excited, he couldn't hate it. Seeing Misaki run out onto the stage, feeling his presence behind him when he sang, Saruhiko wouldn't have traded that for anything. He loved Misaki, the stupid idiot, and whenever he heard their songs begin, Saruhiko was transported somewhere else. A place he felt alive, and happy, comfortable even.

Strange, that on stage in front of thousands of people he felt more comfortable. But he never really felt scared, especially since Misaki was always right there, behind him. The beat of their songs holding Saruhiko's hand throughout the entire concert. They were connected, together, and the whole world knew it.

"Introducing...Yata Misaki and his guest, Fushimi Saruhiko!" Kusanagi's voice boomed into the microphone, and the crowd went wild, cheering and chanting their names.

Misaki jumped up, shaking his hands out as he stepped up onto the steps. Seeing Misaki's energy, the way his eyes twinkled against the stage lights, Saruhiko knew he'd made the right choice. All this time, he'd felt he didn't deserve to be happy, that he should continue on the safe path, the safe journey...and stay away from any risks. But Misaki...Misaki was the best risk, and he loved him.

Misaki turned around, noting Saruhiko's momentary hesitation, and he gave Saruhiko the biggest of smiles, holding his hand out. "You coming Saru?"

_I love you_

And as Saruhiko reached forward and took Misaki's hand, their fingers intertwining. He walked up the steps, crossing the threshold onto the black stage. Saruhiko cracked the tiniest of smiles, "Let's do it."

_I love you too._

"Together!" Misaki cheered.

"Together," Saruhiko repeated.

And as the two of them stepped on stage, holding each other's hands, Saruhiko could feel Misaki’s pulse throbbing against his own, their hearts’ rhythm syncing up. Misaki waved when they both looked down at the crowd, and the cheers began to crescendo into the loudest of happy roars.

**Author's Note:**

> SUPER HUGE Thank you to anyone and everyone who read or will read this fic. I had so so much fun writing this, I always felt so inspired and just fell into the world. It has definitely been one of my most favorite fics to write, and I'm actually really sad it's over. I am SO incredibly proud of this fic, it's probably one of my favorite's I've ever written and I just wanna thank everyone for the massive amount of support I received while writing it. Thank you to Adriana for beta-ing this monster and I just want to thank everyone who read, kudo, commented, bookmarked etc, thank you so so so much <3 I hope everyone enjoyed the ending <3
> 
> [emeraldwaves](http://emeraldwaves.tumblr.com/) is my tumblr!!!  
> [musickazoo](https://twitter.com/musickazoo) is my twitter if you wanna yell about things with me, or write stupid headcanons whatever! LOL
> 
> [Misaki's DJ Playlist](https://8tracks.com/emeraldwaves/straight-into-the-fire-misaki-s-dj-playlist) (link goes to 8Tracks)  
> [Mikoto's DJ Playlist](http://8tracks.com/emeraldwaves/waves-mikoto-s-dj-playlist) (link goes to 8Tracks)  
> [Nagare's DJ Playlist](https://8tracks.com/emeraldwaves/live-for-the-night-nagare-s-dj-playlist#) (link goes to 8Tracks)  
> 


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